


The Night Watchman's Secret

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Background Case, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Curse Breaking, Curses, Dark, Dark Fantasy, Dark Magic, Death, Dubcon Kissing, First Kiss, Horror, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Minor Character Death, Movie AU, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protectiveness, Regency Romance, Romance, Rough Kissing, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Nightwatchman Dean Winchester joins his barrister brother to investigate a murder committed by the Headless Horseman in the remote village of Carrytown. Luck wasn't on his side as Dean becomes a victim to a year curse while saving his brother. After a year, a mysterious Lord Novak from Sleepy Hollow appears and saves Dean from death.Why he is the only one that can vanquish the Rider and why does Lord Novak have a scar on his neck like it has been severed? Dean is about to find out…
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 43
Collections: SPN Regency Big Bang 2020





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Sleepy Hollow Movie AU with twists here and there! So excited to have this out! Thank you so much to Regency Bang and to my fantastic artist, [Solus Cheese](https://soluscheese.tumblr.com/)! Check out the amazing arts for this fic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,  
> Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;  
> And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,  
> Forever flushing round a summer sky.  
> CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To @Soluscheese <3 and @zairiwinchester who helped me with beta edit before I went nuts^^

How Dean Winchester found himself riding his steed in the pitch-black forest leading to god-knows-where can only be attributed to his younger brother. Honest to god, Sam Winchester will be the death of him. His brother who had no business disappearing in the forest on his own not only in a place they’ve never been to but one with a history of suspicious deaths where they were called in to investigate doesn’t bode well to traverse alone.

 _Spooky_ is not a word Dean Winchester would use, no, but North Carrytown screams of its endearment to the term the way it greeted the Winchesters who rented lodging in the vicinity with the intent to unravel the mystery gripping the countryside. The shadow cast upon the houses and the monochrome way the local villagers looked as a whole. A perpetual drought enveloped the silent village, spellbound in its embraced obscurity. Dean remembered the unfamiliar chill that ran down his spine when he set foot in the village. A complete opposite of the South was the two gentlemen came from where the sun is warm, aromatic wheat filling the lungs— to exchange it in this gloom after Sam solicitously took a client as a favor to their foster parent, Bobby Singers whose friend was accused of murder.

Now Dean understood where Sam was coming from. He’s never heard of Carrytown, but the details of the murder piqued his interest as for one—the body was found _headless_. And two—none of the villagers actually believed it was Rufus. It was done, as everybody claimed by a _Headless Rider._ At first, they both wondered if it was a metaphor of some sort, but the more they dig into the case, the more they gathered from reluctant eyewitnesses, mostly old folks about this mystic being riding a dark horse, murdering people in its wake, and taking their heads beyond. A kind of evil dwelling in the forsaken lands of the _Sleepy Hollow_ , a graveyard beyond the woodlands where this demon possessing the body of a headless _‘Hessian trooper_ ' killed during the battle of _White Plains,_ decapitated by a cannonball found homage.

It made Sam and Dean’s eyebrow raise and they would never have believed it until that fateful night.

Three days since they arrived, Sam located potential eyewitnesses and resolved to pay each of them a visit. Dean, being a watchman by profession, watched his brother’s back knowing if this was no damage done by any supernatural creature, _and they were sure it wasn’t,_ someone would wish his brother harm. Sam is capable of protecting himself, but Dean was taking no chances until that night they separated for the family looked truly uncomfortable to have unannounced guests. Dean prowled back to the pub after Sam promised he would meet him there. An hour or so and he sees one of the lanky sons of said family. That’s when he heard that Sam went to the _Sleepy Hollow_ courtyard to speak to the master of the land. Abruptly? Bewildered why his brother would take such initiative when they both heard the Lord was not in town—Dean tries to ask for more details by cornering the man and headed back to the house. But he gets pushed out claiming darkness is upon them and visitors are damned at the late hours. Dean can only scowl at the closed door before snatching a lamp and a staff leaning on the house’s wall without permission.

The forest grows thicker by the second as he rides onwards, the sun setting behind him. Panic is not his usual state. Shadows shifted. Darkness doesn’t do well to appease his concern. The chill from the Northwind meant to freeze his sore limbs from the crooked ride of his rented horse. Garbed only with his long thick black coat atop his waistcoat, trousers and a wide brim hat he uses for practicality and thick muddy boots, Dean spurs the horse to the uninviting forest.

He is well deep into the forest when he heard another beating sound of hooves. He listened intently and looked behind him to the darkness swallowing the path his lamp could not reach. A biting freeze kissed his skin and his horse neighs and did a dangerous halt, refusing to move onwards no matter how much Dean goads it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean raises the lamp up the air, squinting into the night. His horse pawed the ground in discomfort. Dean distinctly hears a voice. Heart racing, he raises the lamp higher. He hears it again—a familiar voice.

 _“Sam!”_ he calls in alarm, sliding down his horse but holding the reigns tight. Then he sees something flicker from his left. Something that made his blood coil. Dean kneels down the ground to pick up a headpiece of trinket—Sam’s pendant. Dean gasps. A looming sense of dread claws in his chest. He stares at the pendant, points the lamp on the ground. Gritting his teeth, he follows the trail.

Dean can only hear his own breath as he marches on, eyes attentive to any prints. The atmosphere is close and thick with the scent of wet leaves and moist. Trained as a Watcher that sees to the safety of the streets in the night, Dean has no problem finding his way in the dark, all the while thinking of his brother.

 _“Sam!”_ he calls hoarsely as he hears a secondary footstep apart from himself. “Sammy!”

There’s an echo back. Dean stays still. Sound of rustling leaves, but there’s no wind in the closeness of the trees. There’s a cold feeling gripping his stomach but Dean chooses to ignore it. Dean listens more to the sound of life.

A faint voice. A familiar one.

“Dean!”

Dean raises his lamp and there sees his brother racing towards him. With a cry of relief, he gathers his brother in his arms, steadying as Sam nearly leaps to him unable to control his momentum. Dean hisses at the collision but clutches his brother close, then once he makes sure his brother is sold, he pushes him gruffly, then grips his shoulder back.

“What in the blazes, Samuel?” he admonishes, raising the lamp above them where he can see and hear his brother breathing hard, face pale with beads of sweat, “What are you thinking running in the forest? Are you out of your mind!?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Sam huffs as he reaches for Dean and clings to his arm, “Dean we have to go!”

Saying so, he tries to pull Dean but he stays put, gripping his younger brother’s wrist tightly. It doesn’t take a second for Dean to see the terror in his brother’s eyes. Something’s not right, Sam looked so disturbed. He’s never seen Sam like that. Taller and broader of the two, with the gentler expression that could melt anyone, his younger brother, a visionary who sees the world’s goodness despite its imperfection with eyes that can coax Dean into forgiveness, he doesn’t understand what could cause his eyes such fright.

“Is someone chasing after you?” Dean growls.

There’s the sound of hooves in the shadows and it’s not a gallop. It’s a sound of impatience, a steed standing still and raking the ground. Dean feels the drop in temperature. The air turns icy cold, their breaths shallow. Dean glances at Sam, eyes wide as saucers, staring at something behind Dean.

He turns with heart thundering. Something is happening he could not quite put a finger into, something in the dark filled with menace. They stood there frozen, waiting. Then what appeared next almost made Dean scream.

A figure emerged from the cloak of darkness, a form of mist and glowing eyes of red. Smeared hooves crush rocks underneath them and out steps a beast—thick-skinned, a dark giant horse with the blackest of hair and long strands of locks—such beauty and terrifying sight combined.

Dean grabs Sam’s arm an instinct to protect his brother kicking in while ignoring the falter of his own heart. But neither moved as beast approaches— it’s not the size of the horse that terrified Dean. It’s the rider mount at the beast—and what kind of creature could be a master to such a specter?

Unimaginable terror seizes him. The lantern slips from his hand with a thud on the muddy ground. And pray, Dean considers himself a brave man, but in the face of such monstrosity, he is uncertain whether his staff would work against one so malevolent but his brother is behind him and by god—he swears an oath nothing could harm Sam in front of their parent’s grave.

Dean points his only weapon up in attempt to protect himself and his brother. It doesn’t faze the being. Cold sweat runs down his damp skin, dripping down the small of his back. The creature majestically ambled in his direction and halts a foot away.

Dean doesn’t move. He tries not to look at the rider believing it to be an impending nightmare in the future. But when the horse paws the ground, Dean inadvertently eyes the headless rider come into being to mock him—one which made Dean snort and roll his eyes in disbelief once—now standing before him. It is typical of Dean to not believe until he sees it but now, he does, he can see the outline of its broad shoulders without its head, wearing a steel plate armor—to Dean’s memory that is splattered in blood.

The world stills. An emanating power hums from the creature. The horse whines but it’s not this that has Dean finally realize the meaning of facing death. The Headless Rider raises a scythe—to Dean’s horror— _Sam._

_Name._

The voice comes from every corner of the forest, from the gap of the trees, the hollow from the base of the trees, from the roots echoing in the darkness deep, harsh, ominous.

Chill courses through him upon hearing the hollowed voice. He knew instinctively it’s speaking to Sam.

_Name._

Dean’s heart thunders.

“No…” Dean plants his right hand tight on Sam’s chest, pushing him back urgently, knowing they must never give their names to the creature.

The horse paws the ground impatiently, red eyes reflecting Dean’s face. Sam breathes hard. Dean turns in to see his brother pale and just when Dean thinks his brother can hold out— Sam aggressively steps forward as if possessed.

“S-Sa—”

Dean knocks Sam to the ground and stands between his brother and the creature.

_“Dean Winchester!”_

The horse neighed and out on the horizon the dark sky cracked and flashed. A slight movement from the Riders almost made Dean feel the creature is staring at him. Braving it through, like the many times' someone tried to harm his brother, he grits his teeth and points the end of his stick to its invisible face.

“ _Leave my brother be_!”

The creature spoke but it’s for Dean now and whatever he understood made his lips part. His body shakes involuntarily as the Headless horseman raises its scythe, its shadow closing upon Dean’s face whose heart thudded at his impending death—

It cuts the wind. Dean stops breathing for a second thinking his arms have been severed—then watches in horror as the horse stands in its hind legs, neighs so loud with red eyes blazing,

Dean clutches his cold arm. The Headless rider raises his scythe in the air and turns—leaving Sam and Dean in the darkness of the night. But Dean can hear its laughter in the air. Has been hearing the creature in his head after the slash. The laughter, the mockery, the threat, and the promise.

_A year… I will be back for your head in a year._

_You’re mine._

Dean stares at his right arm and finds to his distress a long red mark that looks like a scythe. Dean blinks in the darkness but there was nothing there, nothing to be afraid of, and yet there lies a feeling he will never be alone nor safe.

But at least it spared his brother and in the long run, that’s all that mattered.

[ ](https://soluscheese.tumblr.com/post/629536895343476736/the-night-watchmans-secret-by-spnsmile-for-the?fbclid=IwAR0JL3-iDCEqncCrcYKpXmwRuN_mZJsVBLKdYQTQDwZn8nfV3nwWMZJJaSA)


	2. Normality Bends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness decends, cascading downwards,  
> Covering all like ebony flowers.  
> On this night, normallity shall bend,  
> For on this night is Hallow's End!

_Ten months later…_

The crowded pub filled with local patrons, drunks, squires, shopkeepers, and ale-soaked travelers finds Dean Winchester sitting by the counter, chortling at Joanna Beth’s repulsed expression. The local pub, now Dean favors before his night duties after staying in the village for nearly a year, befriending the owner of the bar and his daughter. Now at sundow they enjoy their drinks before they disappear in the walls of their abode. Dean sniggers beside his brother who nudges him after a series of rolls of eyes.

“Try not to be rude, Dean,” Sam admonishes.

“What is rude? I only asked her if there’s ever any chance I’ll see her get swept away by a proper man and look at her pretty face. Mr. Harvell’s right, Joanna Beth’s going to break his heart.”

“I don’t think that is any of our business,” Sam mutters sheepishly while Joana Beth wipes cleaned glass off the counter, her nose up in the air, staring at Dean.

“Your brother always gets his nose sticking to other people’s business, Sam, it's the reason why the two of you never left us, curious of our village monster.” Joanna Beth gives Dean a nasty look who chuckles and drinks his pint, “But my mind is made up, I shall move to the inner city to study.”

“Women here do not get the privilege,” Mrs. Harvell says in passing with a gentle pat on her daughter’s cheek, “but if she doesn’t want to marry to any wealth family, to either of you gentlemen or anyone who had the gall to ask for her hand, the only thing I can pray for is that she at least got a good head. I still await any change in the wind…”

“Oh, mother…”

“Pray to who?” Dean leans to Sam quietly, “there’s no such thing.”

Sam nods with a side glance at Dean who calls another drink while casting eyes around him. An hour from now he will have to ask these people to leave and there would be no one to deny him that since being appointed as the Night Watch by the village chief. Their stay in the village extended fully to almost a year with the case still open with dead trail and a secret Dean has been keeping from the villagers.

They had rented a bigger lodge with two rooms, one dining room across the small living room near the village hall. Sam has taken the opportunity to be the village’s local solicitor while Dean the watchman, a news Sam did not take well, especially with Dean taking the night watch.

“You’re acting recklessly again. Why can’t you just take my advice and stay in the house until this month is finished and let Lucifer take charge of the night watch?”

Dean snorts, “Let that man out in the night, there’ll be more trouble on your plate trying to prove villagers’ innocence. You know I still believe he set up Rufus that night Crowley killed his brother? That’s why he didn’t take the night shift and pretended to be sick!”

“Dean, I’m a solicitor, not a medical man, I wouldn’t know how to prove his alibi and Rufus did not say much about Lucifer at all.”

“Rufus got played by Lucifer and Crowley. He’s an accomplice and as long as that guy acts the scum that he is, he isn’t taking any night watch with me around. Sam, we aren’t going to be outsmarted by these rugged folks!”

“You really need to put perspective into this.”

“Believe me, I am.”

It felt not so long ago, nowhere is Sam still standing with him, his only family.

“It’s tolerable, the cold in this village.” He tells his brother as they watch the last drunkard get escorted away by Garth, a fellow night watchman on shift. Mr. Harvell closes shop once the pub empties out but it’s been a custom that no one should stay out after dark. No one really wanted to make the shift once late fall begins and nearing solstice, not with the promised visit of the Headless Rider.

“You still stand with your last decision to stay?” Sam sighs, “You… if we believe the stories of the villagers, the Headless Rider will return… and from what you said was its message, it clearly will come for you, Dean. So what are we still doing here?”

“I need new breeches, my buttoned shoes are a mess from all the terrain walks in the mud,” Dean finds his legs rather interesting but when he glances up, it is to see a flash of annoyance in his younger brother’s eyes, “The pair I have is comfortable, the same way mice get comfortable in the small holes they made between my legs, see?” He flips his dark coat which Sam glares in exasperation.

“Dean, I need you to listen to me, we only have a few weeks before the day the rider returns.” They pull their hats down and start walking side by side with Dean raising his lamp, “We still haven’t poked our nose enough to the right people and with the Novak gone from the village, nothing can help us understand this… this curse.”

They both stop at the edge of the bridge heading to the pathway leading to the forest and the uplands. Dean raises the lamp up and passes the bridge on to the shadowed hills ahead. The Sleepy Hollow where the manor of the wealthiest family in town could be found, only it has been abandoned for a long time.

“What are you doing, stay off the bridge, chief,” Garth says as the brothers turn to find the second watchman ambling towards them, keys jangling on the waist of his old leather breeches and Hessian boots covered in dirt. The brothers did not move from their position where Garth frowns at them and points at the line on the ground.

“I know you gentlemen are in the best shape and capable of saving yourselves with those long legs, but whatever you do, stay off the bridge at midnight and keep away from the moor and the woods, you know that. The Headless Rider does not have discretion. It will kill you if you get in its way.”

“It’s the middle of October, I doubt it would come chopping anyone’s head off just yet,” Dean pulls hiss

Rufus’ wide eyes turn to Dean like he is a mold potato that just spoke but the next words Rufus said left an impression on Dean.

“Do not listen to it if it does, pray chief, few claimed to have heard its voice and lived… it is common knowledge that once the rider has staked a claim on a human, it will come for him the year next with nothing to stop it?”

“Not even when you leave the village?”

Silence follows his words. Sam and Dean exchange ominous expressions. Garth stares at them with wide suspicious eyes. “Have you by any chance, had a run-in—?”

The brothers stay silent. The second watchman’s bloodshot falls on Dean as if he knows…

“The marking will be on your neck,” Garth states grimly.

Dean looks at Sam before swallowing hard before he pulls on his cravat and exposes his neck. There was nothing. Sam did the same. Nothing. Garth heaves a sigh.

“Once marked by death, there is no escaping it. The villagers may all celebrate but it will do you no good to tell them if you ever have the misfortune to encounter such fate. Nor does it help to run away, masters. You will invoke disaster anywhere you go and it will take you head to foot and carry you away as it did with the poor soul of the Lord Novak some ten years ago,”

Sam’s eyes round.

“Novak? Are you saying the disappearance of one of the Novak….? That his head—”

“We know.” Garth nods quietly, “Only the Novak… the founding family of this village whose family all died in the white plain war…

“We know, Garth, what we want to know is why once a year…” Dean asks.

“Sacrifice for blood. The Sleepy Hollow ground consecrates this way. So it kills anyone in its wake taking away not only the body but even the soul—

“Soul?”

Garth’s face turns darker, “To where the dead sleep under the stone with the other restless spirit. To the Underworld.” The nightlamp flickers ominously and the wind picks up outside.

Sam and Dean glance at each other and instead of Sam going back alone, his younger brother waits for him to finish his shift after long hours, conversation continuing once they were on their own again.

“We can’t be ruled by fear, Dean,”

“We are not, but…you know as much as I do, I’d laugh this matter out if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. No, Sam, I don’t think my humor will save me from this one nor does run away,” Dean sighs when he and Sam are finally alone, “I don’t think it’s something I can run away from. We might as well accept it.”

Sam tried to convince him they can go back, just to try every day. But every time the brothers try to leave, something bad happens to them. The wagons they all ride into fell into accidents, horses getting spooked by some unknown creatures or worse. Dean hears the crackle of the monsters in his head. All this he confided to Sam who poured all his time and knowledge to find more about the curse and the Headless Rider.

That was a year ago. Its common knowledge Headless rider is searching for its missing head. It would ride one night each year to hunt but it never crosses the Carrytown bridge—or so they said. Its soul caged within the bounds of Sleepy Hollow but its physical absence doesn’t alarm Dean… It’s worse. Much worse… and the feeling never left him. It’s not fear. It’s more… his dreams always filled with its evil laughter. Unable to sleep easily, he spent his time learning how to be a Watchman, built such a reputation the village leader was convinced to conform to the Winchester act of the country, reforming the system of Watch and Ward in the village with the blessing of the village leader with the aim to regulate policing especially at night. Chuck Shurley, the village magistrate and leader, a meek Lord who likes to listen to stories and believes so much in the Headless Rider even when he hadn’t encountered it in person. But Dean knew better this time than to challenge it. Not when he is hopeless against it in his dreams.

Sam has continued investigating other deaths accounted to the Headless Rider knowing that some humans may have used the legend to their own benefit, at the same time trying to figure out how to save his brother. One of those days he just snaps much to Dean’s silent delight, often sparked by Dean’s brisk dismissal of the subject is brisk and casual, “At least I know how my story ends. It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay? It’s almost a year, Dean and we haven’t found a cure to remove the mark on your arm!”

“We got its name?”

“From accounts of people—from the legends, Dean, but it doesn’t give us a clue how to save you and there are only a few weeks left!”

Dean stays silent, eyes falling on the sleeve of his coat where the red mark had remained fresh as the night it was bestowed upon him. The nightmares and constant turning cold of his whole body don’t scare Dean anymore. A year’s notice can do that. Instead, he spent his day's training with a sword, using every means and of course mastering, taming, and riding horses that in ten months, Dean is well known in the village to be the ‘Green Knight with the Lantern,’ much to Sam’s dismay.

“Why let them glorify this—this curse?”

“They don’t know what it is—"

“Ask Chuck!” Sam snaps, and Dean remembers that night they were able to finally have a private meeting with the village mayor whom Dean showed the mark left upon his arm. “Chuck said—"

“I know what Chuck said,” Dean says dismissively, “And he couldn’t come up with any hypotheticals as to how to remove it, right?”

Sam hangs his head, “Actually, there’s someone we can consult. It always led me to one place—”

Dean snorts. “Sleepy Hollow again, huh? Sam, we tried many times but the Lord of the land hasn’t returned in what—two-ten years?”

“I have a solid reason to believe he is going to return soon, and I told you their absence may not have been that long. I wasn’t lying when I told you I saw the master’s coach go that way when I left the McLeod’s house, Dean,”

“Well, if he is dead or alive, we wouldn’t know, he never came out, did he, good man?” Dean leans on the table to adjust his brother’s cravat, “And I refuse to get a dog.”

“Yes, you are.” Sam insists, giving him a glowering.

That afternoon Dean had no choice but to get a dog from the Blacksmiths owned by Gadreel. They sell their pups and once Dean secures a golden retriever about three years old, he immediately dumps it outside Sam’s office after learning he really has no taste for dogs.

“At least you’d get a good company,” he tells Sam that evening before going out to do his routine night watch duty, calling out the time to the people to remind them to get the fuck home while he checks loose doors. His partner, Garth Fitzgerald is also on a rotation basis usually on the lookout not far from him. Their shift starts at nine in the evening until sunrise. Armed only with a thick long coat, brim hat, lantern, a wooden rattle, and long wooden stick to prod any drunkards sleeping on the street, their job is to watch for suspicious folks, break away any crowd at the late hours and keep eye on any cries of alarm or ‘any persons casting night soil in the street’.

Dean has no qualms with the job—he was actually good at the job. Not to mention he is no longer afraid of the darkness and every night he remembers the curse; he finds himself pressing a hand on his arm where the red mark is while staring intently on the bridge. No one has seen the Headless Rider for almost a year now and villagers already suspected someone has the curse, except no one is owning up to it.

Dean Winchester certainly isn’t going to be the middle of the spectacle. His training during the morning becomes more rigorous that one late afternoon, Lucifer offers a one-on-one duel. Dean, who had been training regularly giving his body tones and curves to be envied, smiles and takes the challenge. And in the middle of the village main square just at sunset, with wooden swords at hand wielded like the true weapons that they are.

“The _Watch_ is fighting!” shouts the familiar voice of the boy Jack who gets the crowd circling the square in a beat, apparently the only entertainment of the day because at night terrible things seem to occur.

Dean cuts the air with an X—motion on Lucifer’s spot.

“You won’t get me, Winchester.”

“No one likes to,” Dean winks at Lisa in the crowd whom he spotted easily in the market not long ago. Lisa is the daughter of the baker man whom Dean worships—yes, he worships Mr. Braden with everything he’s got. She waves at him and watches anxiously as the battle continues to unfold. “So, what is this a friendly battle, or are you trying to find an excuse to get rid of me?”

“I wouldn’t want you dead,” Lucifer says rather darkly and Dean doesn’t believe a shit he says, “I wouldn’t want to make the ladies cry… even the freaks who want you to use their mouths,”

The pale eyes gleam and Dean’s expression blank out. They circle each other at the center of the ring and it’s supposed to be really harmless but the way Lucifer is goading him, Dean can’t promise a clean spar.

“And that means what?”

“I don’t know, Winchester, I hear you’ve been very friendly to _everyone_.” Lucifer sneers, “Ever fuck anyone lately? I heard you didn’t go all the way with Risa at the back of the pub—same with other gals, you must be really picky. Or you want a different type of beer.”

Dean pauses.

“Ah, so is this sparring really… your way to get my attention and insult?”

“Just to put you in your place," Lucifer sneers more.

“I don’t think so,” Dean laughs easily, swinging his sword to his shoulder, “If you want that kind of good times, you're looking at the wrong place.”

“You don’t need to hide it, we're not at the capital—”

“I’m not admitting to anything you already made yourself believe, but careful on what you spread,” Dean doesn’t show any expression but he grips his sword tight, “all I know is you can’t hold a candle to this.”

Saying so, Dean opens his left hand out of the way and holds the sword out in front of his chest with a smile. From where he stands, he can easily see the target’s vital points—the crown of his head, sides of the neck, collarbone, wrists, hip bones, knees— Lucifer isn’t even hiding them and Dean wonders if this guy actually trains? Dean takes an open position enough. He hears a grumble on the sides and recognizes Sam’s groan.

Lucifer’s face darkens and he takes the first swing. Dean easily takes the first blow, then both reattracts the speed of their blows is aiming to hurt so Dean does not hold back and goes delivering defensive strikes to all Lucifer gives.

They clash in the middle, Dean winking at Lucifer.

“Thought you wanted me?”

“Just to show them you’re nothing special,” Lucifer kicks his middle but Dean easily dodges that and was out of the foot’s way. “Heard you like it that way.”

“I should kill you for talking like that out of principle,” Dean shakes his head and swings his sword, they make slashing in the air with crisp thuds accompanied by excited shouts from the crowd until they both retract again. Unknown to the crowd is the ongoing spat between the Watchmen, “I wouldn’t know where you get the news but I’m not a fool. We both know you’d want me all shackled up in the gallows too. Stop acting like you’re one heck of an angel,” he tells the blonde morning watchman,

“Don’t act clean, we agreed it doesn’t matter which mouth, _sir_?” Lucifer is starting to get in his nerves. Dean glowers this time and his attacks are in earnest. He doesn’t know if Lucifer’s first intention was to make him confess—and then get sacked and thrown to the gallows for being who he is.

One thing Dean has learned about the village is that it hardly cares what others do about as long as they can keep the peace, unlike in the mainland’s where the restriction to prostitution of men is seen with sneers and scandals and mostly only applies to noble by birth. Dean is as noble as the broken sole of his boots.

“In your case, I'd rather fuck the hollow. But just as well, you fucking lay off. And the others as well.”

Lucifer growls and with strength, he pushes Dean away.

“So what? You’re going to get in my way?”

“You bet,” Dean grits his teeth, grip tightening on the wooden sword again. One of the reasons he doesn’t let Lucifer be a night watch. The man’s insane abuse of power to those he can hold at the streets. Dean has heard stories from Sam—the one his brother has also been working on aside from trying to find the cure for Dean.

Lucifer fell one too many times until his sword flies away to the crowd. Dean already soaking wet removes his waistcoat and white muslin, earning gasps and cheers from the ladies as he finally removes his collar, one particularly was Lisa who gives Dean a surreptitious look.

“Never turn your back on me, Winchester!” Lucifer shoots a broken piece of broom straight at Dean—except he miscalculated and it soared directly at Lisa. There are gasps— Dean swats it easily in the air and glares.

“What the hell, Lucifer!”

“Call the _Watch_!” Jack shouts.

“We are the watch,” Lucifer says but Dean is upon him and grabs the blonde man’s already wrinkled cravat, their nose upon each other.

“You don’t swing and throw at civilians! Are you out of your mind!”

“She wasn’t hurt!”

“You—”

“Dean,” Sam calls behind him as Fitzgerald comes around to help Kevin, the other morning watch, to disperse the crowd since it’s sundown. Dean lets go of Lucifer and goes to check on Lisa, earning him a quick peck on the cheek. Lucifer disappears and there’s only Sam glaring at him.

“You can’t keep doing that, Dean,” Sam tells him as they go back in their quarters. Sam calls Becky, their landowner’s maid, and overall, in charge of the borders to get the tub ready for a bath, “You can’t stoop low on that man’s level, you know what a sly person he is.”

“Did you hear what we were talking about?”

“No, but I could see it from your face.” Sam leans against the window frame with arms crossed, “He must’ve said something nasty.”

Dean trudges to his single mattress where he dumps his drenched clothes on the clean linen. The walls are made from elkwood with a window over a table where a half-eaten apple was left on top of documents. Dean puts his jackknife on the table and sighs.

“I’d drown that man in his own blood if I could, Sammy.”

“We can’t prove anything unless someone actually accuses him or catches him in the act.”

“Yeah, well, if I’m willing, I can be the bait just to catch that manipulating blasted—"

“Dean,” Sam says in warning, “Don’t.”

Sam, of course, knows more than the mark’s secret. He doesn’t judge but even when his brother can work his magic words in court if ever Dean is put in the spotlight, Dean is not that stupid.

“Anyway, I got you the dog.”

Dean groans.


	3. Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the children, mothers and fathers,  
> Hide in homes, waiting for impending slaughter.  
> An insipid laugh rings through the night,  
> Filling all those who hear with fright.

Sam is still protesting about keeping the dubious Mr. Bell when the daughter of the lodge comes back from the back of the house, beaming at the brothers with innocence and mischief both flickering in her eyes.

“I got Mr. Winchester’s bath ready, Lord Sam. There’s soap, drying linen, and clean clothes from the laundry,” she squeaks with a noticeable pink tinge on her skin. Sam graces her a smile while Dean watches the interaction in amusement.

“Thank you, Becky, how’s supper going?”

“Oh, Mrs. Tate’s almost done with the hot soup and she only needs to put the salted meat on the grill soon. A small celebration should happen soon.

“Oh, are we having a guest tonight?” Sam asks in surprise.

“Mr. Campbell is returning from town carrying our supplies. He should be back soon any moment now.”

“Hear that Dean? Mr. Campbell’s returning,”

“I heard, Sam.” Dean crosses his arms, “Now if you two just leave me alone, I need a peaceful bath.”

Sam rolls his eyes and all the way out the two-keep talking animatedly that makes Dean smirk and grab his personal drying sheet. The tub is found next to the stone kitchen just outside the yard with rock walls and Dean lets himself enjoy the warm water and wash away the sweat and pain of that morning, not forgetting how Lucifer actually wanted to engage in something he and Sam already knew from the beginning.

But what gets Dean is what gave the man the remotest idea Dean will actually kneel for him? As far as Dean is concerned, he has not gone far with women in bed since he came to Carrytown in fear of being seen with the mark. Yes, he plays around dark alleys with the ladies off duty but never has he given anyone the idea that he plays the left corner too. After all, it is against the law which his brother mentions often but only to give his brother warnings and advice.

But then again, Dean is not stupid.

For Lucifer of all people to call him out just because he doesn’t get laid is simply—Dean kicks the water. He doesn’t want to think of Lucifer and definitely not making any comparison. Like what he told Lucifer already—

Can’t hold a candle to this.

“Did you hear? Hollow Manor has come back to life!”

“Now?” Dean says sharply as he descends the stairs.

When the most interesting part of his curse is about to unfold. He sits beside Sam at the long wooden table, giving him a meaningful look.

“Lord Novak was in town this afternoon,” now seated at the top of the long table, he gives the brothers a blink, “Oh, I heard the watchmen had a little fun just before sundown?”

“We didn’t see him,” Sam says frowning because anyone would notice Lord Novak among the locals even if the brothers hadn’t seen him in person.

“Master Tran caught a glimpse of him. I’m sure his Lordship has concealed himself among the crowd, or everyone was too busy in the village. What happened down there?”

“It was a quick spar, but what about this Lord Novak-ship?”

Sam elbows Dean and shakes his head. By the looks of Mr. Campbell, it wasn’t in Dean’s favor to make fun of the name.

“Well, before the Novak, there were the Edlund’s.”

“Edlund?” Sam blinks. Dean too.

“We’ve never heard of that.”

“People still don’t speak of it, but yes, Carver Edlund‎ owns the entire estate of Sleepy Hollow once upon a time. The name is as old as this town, and old tales have it, they are one of the founding families of County Winchester—surprisingly your given name. Most of their families acting as soldiers during the warring times. But it all is shrouded by the mystery of the curse upon the family.”

“Curse?” Dean glances up, “Are you talking about… the rider? So, you think it’s not a… uh, demon? You think they’ve been cursed.”

Mr. Campbell’s face darkens but Dean’s certain he saw a glint behind them as well.

“Curses come from demons, master, there’s no other creature in the land that can awaken such an angry spirit. The soils of these lands have a long history with the… bad spirits, but to tie it up with the Edlund-Novak’s is… well, we are left to speculate since the day we saw one of his brothers ride to the moor and vanish forever.”

That’s one-story Sam and Dean have never heard from the locals.

“When the senior Carver Edlund‎ died, he left all of his worldly goods and property to his son, Michael, who was later killed afterward by the Horseman. Michael, being a relatively young man of only 30 years, and a bachelor, had made no will. As such, the deeds of the Edlund manor and lands were to be auctioned in Carrytown. Every man and woman of Sleepy Hollow had some vested interest in this land sale, as half the town was still tenanted on the Edlund land, and a change in ownership amounted to uncertain futures for the long-time residents. The Novak’s were distant relatives and when they heard the auction they quietly took part, won the bid with so little opposition. So that is how the Novaks won the entire estate… but tragedy soon hit the family at the death of one of their sons. They never returned except the youngest lord…but this youngest one, Lord Novak… very quiet gentleman… very fine… dashing, my old gal said… always pleasing to the eyes…but mysterious.”

“Yes, we heard,” Dean politely says, taking his fork and knife, “so what’s going to happen now that he’s back? Will there be balls or more of those pumpkin patches I saw Becky fix around the yard?”

“Oh, because it’s that time of the year,” Mr. Campbell replies, “I hear you don’t care much for pumpkins, master?”

Dean swallows hard. In his mind’s eye, he will never forget what the pumpkin meant while he was out there in the woods searching for his brother.

“Um, about this Lord Novak,” says Sam again, ever the reasoner, “Did they give any accounts as to what happened to the brother aside from claiming he was…as the villagers said…. spirited away?”

“He is spirited away, Master Sam,” Mr. Campbell says quietly, “Otherwise we would have a coroner’s report,” he says with finality that has the brothers staring at each other again.

Dean finishes his supper and leaves immediately. Since there was still a week left, he doesn’t see any reason to still be prowling at night time and only suffered one long glare from his brother before he is out of the door on to the soft road. The chilly draught never left since they came to this Northern village.

Dean meets Fitzgerald at the Watchhouse in a small hut a few yards away from where Dean and Lucifer had their little bout. Garth Fitzgerald meets him at the entrance with a winning smirk which Dean returns as he takes his staff and rattle inside the small quarters.

“It’s great to have this year even when the spook gets on you,” he says quietly as they stand side by side and Dean fixes his cravat closer to his neck when the wind picks up, “Look at all those little houses with tiny lanterns outside their doors all lined up. I wonder how it looks from the top.”

“You can always hang on a tree if you’re really curious,” Dean says with a small smile as he watches the corner of the dark streets, “You think it’s going to rain?”

“Been raining all year for me, Master Dean,” Garth turns to him with all eyes curious, “You can always return to your warm rooms, why must you insist on working the graveyard shift?”

“It’s a well-paid-job,” Dean raises his lamp towards the local pub called Hollow House, found near the inn found at the hub of the village near the square. Dean frowns at the number of shadows he can still see from the window beneath the inn’s sign of a jack o’ lantern.

“It’s a well-paid-job, but in your case, you can be an actual constable, Master Dean. Why are you and your brother still insisting on helping out this little town of mine and trouble yourselves every year with drunkards pretending to be the Horseman or minor robberies of cocks and eggs at night—”

“What time is it?”

“Am guessing it’s time to work?”

Dean nods, “The pub is still open, you know who’s making a show?”

“I saw Lucifer come in there some time, I can take care of it,” Garth offers but Dean shakes his head and together they make their way to the pub still lit with fiery candle lights by the walls.

Dean eyes the surroundings as they walk, a habit he has picked since he found out how much of the legend is real. His eyes swiftly cover the darkened trees, the moonlight high above in the cover of the scattered clouds. The hoot of the owl from the distant graveyard where possibly the Headless Rider on his horse is waiting for the time. Dean pulls his eyes back and lets Garth lead the way inside the two-story tavern’s main door.

The scent of smoke and wine hits Dean’s nostrils upon entrance. The archway easily opens to a big common room twice as big as that of Mr. Campbell’s hall but the ceilings are far lower and lit with lanterns on each side of the window. There are sets of wooden tables where drinks are served and at the heart of the compact is a large stone log fire that scatters shadow in the corners one shadow sits near at the far end not reached by any lamp. It is quite a corner hidden from view especially if one’s cloak is a shade darker but Dean can see him. Long practice with his eyes, he can see his outline. He can see his eyes glinting in the dark.

He is distracted by a loud roar of laughter at the center of the pub Mr. Harvell owns. Dean is a patron but the people are expected to be about their homes an hour ago so when Dean arrives, he doesn’t find it surprising that their topic is Lord Novak.

“I saw him, you would have noticed if you lot were paying any attention,” snaps the small son of the shoemaker, Kevin Tran tucked under the large shoulder of Lucifer encasing him quite roughly so he wouldn’t escape.

“Aye, that’s all you ever say,” Lucifer holds the poor lad closer, almost hissing in his ear, “Tell me what he was looking for, where he came from after he spoke to Chuck?”

“Is it my fault you were so busy getting your behind kicked by the Green Knight—ugh—” Lucifer’s armlock tightens around Kevin’s neck. “Fine! I heard he was hiring for staff!”

There’s an instant buzz that hit the mob. Most locals are there and even though Dean can identify three new faces by the counter looking over their shoulder and huddling their heads quietly, his eyes still wander back to the man hidden by the shadows whose eyes follow him as he stops just behind the group to listen in.

“A service opening just came up from the Lord’s butler!”

“You chop my legs now— I’d rather lose a limb than serve the manor.”

“But the offer for payment is really…”

“I’m going to sign up,” says Jack in a heartbeat.

“What will you do there? You gonna work as their sepulcher?”

“I can do anything, I have hands.”

“How many do they need?”

“It’s only open for a footman, a kitchen maid.”

“Like we’ll let any maiden there,”

“So, I can go,” Jack shrugs.

“You’d be very suitable there,” Lucifer nods, making Dean raise his eyes to the tall man with pale blue eyes and blonde hair, “Nothing sort of … mysterious,” he turns to the son of the shoemaker, “What else? He wouldn’t come here in person when his scullery staff can do that. He needs more. What is he doing… We all know he went to your father’s store,”

“I don’t know,” insists the boy.

“You’re not making it any easy for the two of us, Master Tran,”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” Dean says coming strong from the entrance that at the sound of his voice the little throng breaks apart. Some look quite amused, others whom Dean has slighted during his duty evaporated on the spot, but mostly the others watch intently as Dean and Lucifer’s eyes fall unto each other again. Dean raises his chin, “Is it worth the gossip what Lord Novak puts under his feet, or are you that desperate to gain attention?”

Dean easily smiles with grim satisfaction at the expression Lucifer threw at him. “Let the lad go,” he says with a nod at Kevin.

Lucifer seems to debate within himself whether he should follow or not. His judgment proved to be for the best as he let his arms slip from the man. Kevin quickly gets to his feet and leaves the bar after a slap of coin on the counter. Dean returns his keen look over at Lucifer then knocks on the table when he sees the day watchman decidedly throws both arms around his chair.

“It’s time to go,” Dean prods.

“But we have only just begun,” Lucifer nods at his two cronies whom Dean glares at. They don’t move to sit with Lucifer, nor did they try to leave their spot.

“You know it’s almost time to close down shop, now either you get your ass out of here or I’ll shut it down the pit for you,” Dean says testily, knowing what Lucifer is doing. An act of defiance at the last minute after the humiliating show that afternoon. An act of petty revenge. Dean hardly cares.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed.

“Are you threatening me?”

Dean shakes his head in mockery, “Oh no, I don’t think this is threatening. This is threatening,” The night watchman raises his ratter and wriggles so loud enough to remove all earwax and with Garth trafficking the people at the entrance, Dean thinks he might need to apologize to the Harvell later. The rattlers not only quickly get the crowd out of earshot but aggravate the only remaining person left on the table.

“Winchester—!”

“Beat it!” Dean says hoarsely to the two dunderheads still waiting Lucifer by the door.

They scattered away and Dean stops the earsplitting sound and with a glare around, he notices the man at the shadow-patched corner still sitting there, watching the scene. Dean will have a word with him but for now, he turns his whole attention to Lucifer.

“It’s after hours where your ass should not be sticking on one of these chairs. You are threatening the rules set by the village even before you and I became Watchmen and that is not something I can tolerate.”

Lucifer’s jaw visibly tightens and when he stands up, it is with a challenge but Dean never backs out. He cocks his head at the villainous eyes of the day watchman who seems to have a lot of things to say so he lets him.

“We both know there’s no danger with the Rider anymore,”

For heart-pounding seconds, Dean stares at Lucifer. The first thought that crossed his mind is his mark. Does Lucifer know? It was a good thing he was holding out the rattler—but when Lucifer grabs his collar and pulls his cravat roughly to reveal his neck, the room falls deadly silent.

Dean stays still, green eyes burning at the idiot whose eyes crunch in confusion. “That’s not possible…” his pale eyes search Dean’s face.

Dean slaps Lucifer’s hands away.

“Are you done?” he says grimly, pointing his staff on Lucifer’s chest and prodding him back. He becomes aware of the eyes still watching them and glares around one last time, “If I catch anyone in here the minute, I finish my rounds I am going to arrest all of you,” he eyes the shadowy corner where the man’s glinting blue eyes find his. Dean glares back at Lucifer before finally leaving the premises while stuffing his cravat into his pockets.

The only question he needs an answer, for now, is… _how come Lucifer seems so certain it was him?_

Coming out of the Watchman’s House with his cravat perfectly tied on his neck, Dean sighs when he finally finds the pub with all the lamplight off and shut. The narrow roads and bends are empty and there’s an unfailing chill embracing the village upon the hour when he raises his lantern above the misty land. He steps into the darkness, listening to the brush of wind on the leaves, small sounds attract him unfailingly. Movements between the trees catch his attention but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t scare easy, he knows terror stuck at his throat, knows the ambiance of death and he doesn’t feel it on the hour. It is safe, he tells himself.

He walks the main road, along the path of the soft road and the grassy weeds. The owls hoot above his head, other winged creatures disturb the tranquility of the air, and Dean walks on until he finds himself standing at the bridge leading to Sleepy Hollow.

Out of the silence of the night, an upcoming sound of a horse-drawn carriage alerts Dean. He turns from the bridge and raises his lantern to the empty street. He waits. Sound of hooves fill the air and soon he sees a black travelling carriage pulled with two black horses. The coachmen, two gentlemen with top hats halt their horses when Dean raises his lantern.

The watchman approaches them, quietly studying the face of the coachmen for these are the same men he saw hanging around Hollow House and for some reason made him curious of who’s inside. Certainly, they are someone of nobility and since it is heading to the direction of the bridge where there is only one destination, Dean’s eyes fall at the dark carriage.

Burning curiosity fills the watchman and a little glad he has a reason to inspect, he raises his lantern further to shed light to the coachman. He saw a young man, not younger than Sam with dark eyes staring back at him coldly while the other man broad and curt with pale skin tells Dean sunny day is not his favorite time. The way his face is gaunt, expressionless but when Dean raises his lantern to the carriage, he receives a flashing look of warning.

“What are you doing?” the coachman says with a smooth voice Dean did not expect to come from the rider.

“My job,” Dean says briskly and steps closer, ignoring the menacing stare and wonders if all coachmen look as neat as this one with his pair of buckskin trousers and boots and leather crop. He stops at the door and sheds light to finally have a glimpse of what’s inside.

There’s a man. A very striking man, regal in all manner, his eyes the cool shade of the ocean reflecting the sky, glinting like starlight against the flicker of the flames… so breathtaking. Dean doesn’t know which is worse, standing there unable to understand a man’s beauty, or understanding it could never be his for Lords never mingle with the commoner.

The eyes grace him and the icy look he receives gets Dean sweating at their intensity and for the second time in his night watchman life, he finds himself shuddering at their weight when the last he checked only the headless rider can make him turn into stone.

“I’m a watchman,” Dean says breathless, struck at how mesmerizing blue eyes are illuminated by the flicker of the fire from his lantern.

The Lord, who Dean never doubted as Lord Novak, doesn’t pull his eyes away. Haughtiness is found in all angles of his frame from his sharp jaw and high cheekbones and the downward curl of his mouth tells Dean as much to lower his lantern.

The Lord eyes him for a whole minute, Dean did not realize he was holding his breath. There’s a second the blue eyes flicker before the Lord leans to the window with penetrating gaze only for Dean.

“I need a Watchman,” his voice is so deep it might have come from the depths of the sea. There’s power in it Dean finds too enthralling but he finds his bearing when the message sinks in.

_I need a Watchman._

“I’m sure the villagers will only be too happy to oblige, your Lordship, if you get one of your attendants to post up an opening for the job,” Dean steps back and turns to the coachman, “You may go, and do be careful on the way. You know what you’ll encounter since it is after hours,”

“And that would be?”

Dean turns back inside the coach and sees Lord Novak still staring him straight in the eyes. Challenging and more…

“I’m sure the Headless Rider will not care for any titles, my Lord.”

“You have encountered the rider?”

Dean raises his chin, “I’ve been a night watchman for over nine months now, it would be a disappointment to my title if I haven’t encountered our famous rider, though, I must say… if you are going to post up for staff, I discourage any gardener. The lad we have here would pluck the best of your flowers.”

“I do not care for flowers,” There’s a slight curl from the Lordship’s mouth that might just be a smile, “I have a gardener, I do not need for another.” Saying so, he flicks his silver cane at the roof of his carriage, and without glancing, the carriage pushes on.

Dean watches the coach drive pass him onto the brook, past the bridge leading to the Hollow Manor but it’s not this that has Dean leaning on his stick to the ground out of air.

He doesn’t care that the Lord he just met is Lord Novak all perfection aside, what he can’t believe is the race of his heart and the slight tightening of the front of his pants for he has never seen someone so beautiful and divine under the moonlight.


	4. Horseman Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knight of undeath, with armour of black,  
> With a ghasly undead horse, and a head he did lack.  
> He flew through the sky, exclaiming his name,  
> The Headless Horseman rides again!

The news reached Dean’s ears the next morning while he was busy brushing the heel of his toe in the upper rooms. Becky brings in the news in the kitchen when Dean, in his casual overalls and tight pants, listens closely about the opening of staff from the Sleepy Hollow. It’s something Dean has already heard and thus was about to return to his business when something else was added that was not quite part of any rumors from last night.

“He is planning to have a ball at the end of the month!”

Dean turns back and catches the eyes of the landowner’s daughter before he fakes a smile and returns to his room. But not after he hears the rest of her statement to the main cook.

“It is unheard of that Lord Novak would throw festivities at this late time of the year, but I wouldn’t mind knowing who would attend his party? Most of the lavish parties I hear from other manors are done mostly by mistresses and lords having visitors from faraway lands. Imagine if anyone would dare come at a ball designed at midnight! Is Lord Novak planning a mass massacre?”

Because it’s only natural to think the Novaks are the master of the Headless Rider. Dean grimaces. The end of the month would mark his one-year grace period from the Headless Rider’s pact.

Dean shudders. He waits for Sam outside the bathroom and when his ponytailed younger brother already wearing his emerges, he quickly pulls him aside to break the news.

“I think it’s a good opportunity for us to see how Lord Novak would react to the Headless Horseman, Dean,”

Dean stares Sam in the eyes, “What?”

“Oh, think of it this way, what if the Headless Horseman doesn’t come? There are plenty of people and we can stay awhile to have a word with his Lordship—”

“Y-you think we can have a word with him after the party?” Dean exhales in disbelief. Sam arches an eyebrow.

“Oh, dear brother, the way you spoke about him since you came back this morning to wake me up, the manner of which you find him most interesting…the way you speak dearly about him gives me the idea the Lord will be quite looking forward to your presence.”

Dean throws his brother a punch with the flush on his face visible.

“Do not be an idiot, he doesn’t—want—"

“What?” Sam crosses his arms, “Of course he won’t, Dean, you want the two of you thrown in the gallows or beheaded?”

Dean purses his lips. Sam shakes his head.

“Honestly, I haven’t heard of any encounters where the Headless rider tries to take on so many people, so we’ll go there as masters since he’s invited the village and afterwards find out as much as we can. If he invites relatives then there’s a good chance, we’ll find some truth about the beast and the mark on your arms”

“But,” Dean licks his lips thoughtfully, “aren’t we worried why he’s back all of a sudden? And why is he having a ball now?”

* * *

It’s clear the little village of Carrytown isn’t used to grand festivities. The way people speak of delight in otherwise gloomy streets brought upon a different spring on people’s feet. The grand ball per se is not particularly for the titled earls and viscounts but for the villagers living at the foot of the hill of Sleepy Hollow. The butler who introduces himself as Inias, one of the coachmen that fateful night Dean encountered them informed the village of the short notice and says anyone can attend the ball for his Lordship Novak would like to extend his warm gratitude to the people who’d been serving their lands for many years.

Days before the grand ball, Jack and Kevin were taken in as footmen and servants as well while Lucifer dismisses his failure to acquire the job with a snarl to the next living being next to him by the news posting. Dean on the other hand never answered the call. He busies himself that day, visiting Jo in the pub and enjoying the company of the daughter of the baker. He can swear that Inias was eyeing him in the crowd while he made the announcement but Dean has no intention to be the watchman at the manor yet, at least he can see for himself the kind of people that reside there, namely, of course, Lord Novak.

He is able to finally procure the name of the youngest Lord after days of struggle with the elders who knew the history of the Novaks, but it was old Mrs Tate who was able to tell him one lazy afternoon while he was waiting for the sundown after a long restless nap haunted by the Headless Horseman carrying a Jack-o-lantern as its head. The evil cackle of the creature never left him even in daylight. He was served blueberry pie by the plump kind-hearted cook after commenting on how pale he looked. Wearing her cream dress with a grey floral apron with embroidered lace that she must’ve done herself, she turns about the little stone kitchen between pots and pans that smelled so delicious. Dean is just nibbling his last piece when she turns to him, probably because Dean mentioned something about Lord Novak unconsciously while staring at the wall.

“That young un Lord Castiel Novak who never cared for his knee-breeches when he was a younger lad?”

Dean spins at her inattention, crumbs on his lips. To imagine the young lad Novak with that deadpan expression.

“You know him? I mean, personally?”

“Of course, silly boy, he is one of the young Lords. He only ever comes down here with his brothers to talk to my late husband about beekeeping. Such a sweetie he was, always polite, but very determined to know his trade. He used to have a hectare all to his hobby even during the monsoons. Always very curious. He used to sneak down here just to ask about honey and stuff… he had the most wonderful eyes, he and his twin…”

“Yes, he does have them…” Dean sighs, watching the shadow of the cook dance on the opposite wall. When he realized the cook is watching him, he hastily added, “I saw him when he was here yesterday with Chuck,” which was actually the truth, he knows now that the man hiding in the shadows back at the tavern was this Cast… Castiel Novak… even the name can make him shudder.

“What a very funny name,”

Mrs Tate prods him with a ladle and he turns in time to see her shaking her head with her lips pursed, “You do not go about insulting other people’s name even if you are a charming young lad, Master Dean, not everyone will forgive you just because you smile at them,”

Dean flashes her a smile. He and Mrs Tate are thick as thieves, owing to the fact that Dean praised her pie better made and more delicious than that of the old baker. 

“Will you go to the ball, Mrs Tate?”

“Oh, no, dear, that is only for the young un and lass now… my time has long gone,”

“But don’t you want to meet the sweet young lad again?”

“Oh, it’s been too long and… time hasn’t been very kind to him and his family,” Mrs Tate suddenly gives a waning smile that struck Dean, and he thought about how, as he walks to his duty that night how Mrs. Tate must’ve looked like while serving as the cook of the Novaks.

“Lord Novak will be the center of everyone’s attention,” Sam whispers beside him as they trudge along the muddy ground pathway leading to the doors of a sullen yet majestic manor from the distance. The sky is dreary but nothing could make the hearts of the excited folks go asunder.

The younger folk of the land are present there in their own wagons and old rickshaws and some on rental post chaise from neighboring lands of the ladies who wish to see Lord Novak while Sam and Dean like most of the abled lads went there with their horses. They trudged the ground after securing their beasts on the stable because there are only Jack and Kevin taking care of the majority of ladies and their carriages, often needing help from the hired coachmen.

Dean listens to Sam’s plan but he gets distracted of the way the ladies from other lands describe Lord Novak is one he would say ‘close but not yet there’ when they mention of his handsome features, his hypnotic eyes (which Sam finds rather offensive and suspicious if they were dealing with anything beyond the normal, Dean can’t blame him, his brother hasn’t seen those magical blues,) and there’s a mention of his large thighs and the contours of his hip and groin—which has Dean warming up and looking away when one of the ladies caught his eyes.

Certainly, even the deadpan Lord Novak will blush if he hears such attributes discussed in the throngs of women. Dean finds his throat drying that the first thing that comes to his mind upon entrance is to get himself a wisp of whiskey.

He muses about his encounter with the Lord and about how all those times, the Lord’s thighs are either hidden under the table or the darkness of his coach. He wipes all his thoughts away when Sam accuses him of being drunk already the way his face is so red. Dean growls at him to leave him alone.

Once inside the gigantic marble pillars, the brothers hold their breath at the scenery of ladies flaring their hips and dazzling smiles at the fifty or so audience, the villagers in their modest frills they can find while holding their bosoms. Most of the men like Sam and Dean are in their evening dress, muslin buttoned-up shirts, and simpler arrangement of cravat and collars to the chin without ruffles plus the dark coats and trousers. Dean let Sam wear the breeches while he fitted himself in a squared cut and broad fall. There was nothing interesting with his boots now after that trudge in the muck.

Dean barely cared for formalities as these are his people from the villagers. He can somewhat say he is quite protective and despite the initial doubts of the ‘anyone can attend’ route, he mentally praised Lord Novak for going against the norm. The villagers are in their best behavior, well, except Lucifer who keeps boasting to everyone he and Lord Novak are the best of friends.

“They haven’t even met,” Dean tells Sam grudgingly once the hall is filled with whiskeys and food prepared and taken from the next village so as not to trouble the people of having to eat their own meal in the ball.

“Dean,” Sam tells him as they both stood at the foot of the stairs where they can see a good view of everyone in the party, “I beg you don’t start ranting about how you also met Lord Novak—they will target you next,”

“I am no fool, Sam,” Dean says with some levity, watching the way Lucifer enjoys the attention, “That chap has some poor taste in getting attention,”

“Yes, so make sure you don’t practice the same once you see Lord Novak again,”

“Shut up.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but the next moment, when Dean finally locates the handsome gentleman, Dean’s first instinct is nothing. 

Lord Novak can certainly blow his mind away.

How he hadn’t noticed at first glance the way the Lord holds his hair— lavish dark hair crowning a delectable face, glorifying his features is not enough, Dean hasn’t begun. Wearing a skin tailcoat and massively arranged cravat covering up to his chin. He knows the ladies are thinking of it too—and is certainly most of the gentlemen, of how Lord Novak holds his white buckskin trousers. And he no doubts the rumor now of the Lord having such athletic legs, the muscles between his well-shaped genitalia—Dean’s mind is blown. Lord Novak is a real epitome of debonair.

How can such a man— an embodiment of mad seduction just stands there surveying the room with his deadpan expression as if he’s looking for someone—

Their eyes connect. Dean drinks his whiskey in one gulp and turns to Sam, knowing how his ears are hot.

“He’s looking at you,” Sam says, perturbed.

Dean grimaces with that familiar feeling that someone is watching him.

“Oh, who d’you think will get me first? Lord Novak or the Rider?”

Sam’s face crumples. The world continues to move as the dance hall gets busy and the music from the orchestra brought in from the main town began playing. The brothers huddle to the corner.

“Stop it, Dean, we’re going to be fine,”

“Yes? You think that guy will really listen to us? About the whole mark thing? What if something bad happens to these people?”

“Relax, Dean,”

“You’re the one fidgety just this morning,”

“I was worried you won’t agree to be here, but I am certain we can ask Lord Novak for assistance. Something tells me he’ll open any door for you as long as you politely ask,”

Dean blushes hard.

“So, listen here, Dean, we go for Lord Novak at midnight, we stay put in here and if the Headless Rider arrives, well, let’s just say the Hallow Manor will earn a status that will be remembered in history.”

“What do we do?”

“We dance,” Sam taps his boots, eyes already at a raven-haired lady standing by the ball, “I didn’t polish my shoe just to become a wallflower.”

“You polish—there’s mud— _how’d you keep that so clean_?”

“Meet me here after midnight,” Sam tells him and off his brother goes to meet the pretty lady.

Dean grumbles and takes another glass of drink when he catches Lisa’s eyes, he tells himself if he is going to die tonight, he might as well live it at his finest. Which here means sneaking with Lisa in one of those doors leading to some old study room after an hour of dancing, touching her every layer as they share kisses, pushing her up the wall and roughing her up the way she likes it, the way she groans when his mouth sucks on her ample bosom, how he thrusts into her heated core with all the bundles of her corset pushed up above her, and with Lord Novak’s sharp blue eyes in his mind, Dean comes. 

Snickering by themselves, Dean lets her sneak out of the room first, giggling to himself and staring at the tall window where the full moon lights the vicinity as the only lamp.

It’s almost time, he tells himself as he buttons up his pants but just as he turns, he sees a silhouette of a man standing at the mouth of the door that makes him jump.

“I believe this is as much as I can expect from your lower caliber, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean freezes. He knows that voice—blast—he knows that silhouette— of all the people.

Lord Novak stands on his way.

Momentarily shocked, Dean doesn’t react at first. The Lord moves to the side cabinet and takes a match. Lighting one of the lamps near the door, Dean becomes fully aware of how his shirt is still untucked. He quickly does it, face burning from the way Lord Novak watches him in a condescending way.

“Was she good?” he asks coldly, “The whore?”

Dean flinches but it’s anger that follows his initial embarrassment.

“Don’t insult her, she is a lady.”

“I have every ground to insult whoever I want not because I’m a Lord,” Lord Novak’s eyes flicker icily, “But because this house belongs to a very traditional family. This is my home and you just defiled it.”

Dean has nothing to say to that. He can’t possibly look the Lord in the eyes now. Filled with embarrassment, he bows his head after smoothing the last wrinkle on his coat. Lord Novak steps closer to him and the way their faces are so close in space, the way he can almost feel Lord Novak’s heat, the way he can taste his lips, Dean shrinks even lower at the hot steam beginning to form at the pit of his stomach.

He dares look him in the eyes and it’s the last wrong decision he ever made. The blue eyes are matched with fire and daggers all proud and anger.

“Get lost,” the lord says in pure, cutting spite.

Dean leaves the room in all haste. He intends to find Sam, to tell Sam that they’re not going to stay here because he must be someone Lord Novak hates the most in the entire world—next to whatever creature cursed his family—

But when he steps out there and sees the faces of happy people, the villagers enjoying the night, another stab of guilt hit Dean. He and Sam plotted to bring the Headless Rider here—the creature that beheads friends and foes—if it ever had another headless friend, Dean wouldn’t like to know.

Dean left the Hollow Manor.

How could he when it was that fateful eve where he has to throw himself to the Headless Rider? Almost everyone in town was invited by Lord Novak, even Sam should be enjoying himself by now. But the mere thought of bringing in the Headless Rider to such a number of people never even crossed his mind.

And yes, there’s Lord Novak with all his anger directed at Dean. Whatever Sam thought about his relationship or future acquaintance with the Lord just hit the drains.

Yes, he and Sam had a plan where Dean would remain in the manor till midnight waiting to see how Lord Novak would react upon the arrival of the dark creature they unleashed in the land of the living. And yet seeing Lord Novak, even with that icy gaze, even with his bad temperament, even when he told Dean harshly to get lost, Dean will never wish him harm.

He’d seen the way the Lord avoided people awkwardly despite his efforts to mingle. He’d seen the way he walks past the villagers who cast him dirty looks despite the fact that they are enjoying the benevolence of the Lord. He’d seen the way those blue eyes cover the pain of listening to all the bad things while playing nonchalantly…

Dean couldn’t be sure too but he imagines just how lonely he looked at the top of the stairs in his beautiful tailcoat.

Dean never wishes him harm. Slipping out of the castle was easy enough. There is no starlight illuminating the sky and the way the wind spoke to him is ever dark and forbidding.

Riding his horse out of the minor may be kind of stupid but the moment he is out of the walls onto the forest, he hears it, another sound of hooves. His horse cried in terror and dashed to the wilderness that the lantern slipped Dean’s hands as he struggled to cling tight on the ropes so as not to fall. 

Hear thundering, Dean leaned down his horse and urged it to go faster. After a moment, certain that he can hear steel armor and the cackle that often visits his dreams, Dean kicks the horse faster. A scream has Dean shutting his eyes for a while, his body turns freezing cold at the hour, and no sound than his thundering heart can be heard.

Dean mentally wills the horse but just like his first horse in the forest, it stops abruptly in the middle of nowhere. Dean quickly jumps away and slaps the horse’s rear to get it moving and he runs into the inky darkness of the forest where he stumbles over roots and undergrowth, the thick maze of trees suffocating and terrifying. He could feel the shadows closing in on him, pressing and unnerving.

He knocks his chest over one trunk to another as he slowly loses balance with short labored breaths. He doesn’t slip, he can’t afford it but he can feel his skin tearing whenever his arms and elbows scratch against branches of trees protruding like giant claws out to get him.

He doesn’t stop until he feels stitches in his sides. Doesn’t relax until he can find one source of light as long as it’s not the red eyes of the Headless Rider’s horse.

And just as it crossed his mind, he found it there, staring at him from the cover of the shadows.

Red eyes of a horse. The sound of steel armor. Steps of hooves. The smell of blood.

_The smell of death._

The horse snorts as Dean clutches his injured arm. He should have listened to Sam about the perils of being a watchman… should not have been stubborn… 

But deep inside him, he knew there was no escape. That this was his fate, to be dragged to the bowels of hell with his head decapitated. Or was it his arms? It’s all confusing when things are not consistent. His judgment becomes erroneous.

He watches the dark boots laced with blood slowly tip down as the rider starts to ascend.

And Dean thinks, this is his end.

A large drape comes out of nowhere and another shadow that looks like a giant bird covers his eyes.

The next thing Dean knows, he is staring directly at two giant familiar blue orbs of Lord Novak squinting at him as he leans to Dean’s space, his perfect chapped mouth into a curl. Eyes ever freezing.

“You ride too fast, but I am a good rider,” he says as a way of greeting, gravely voice soothing Dean in a way he did not expect. Then Dean blinks incredulously. Who told him to get lost…?

“My Lord, there’s-”

Lord Castiel leans further down and reaches a hand under Dean’s chin. To Dean’s great surprise, Lord Novak wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb.

“You are hurt,” he says quietly, “You shouldn’t have run so deep in these woods… it’s dangerous.”

“My Lord—there’s something—!” Dean says to the intent stare the Lord gives him. Behind the Lord, the monster waits, unmoving as well. Dean tenses and for a brief second, he wants to pull the Lord by the wrist and escape with him.

“You’re trembling,” Lord Novak stares long enough

“I do not wish to counter you, my Lord, but you really should look—”

Lord Novak leans closer to him, their foreheads almost press.

“Then watch no one else but me,”

Dean shakes his then gratingly but lo, the blue eyes he never expected to glimpse again without its bolt of lightning of hatred locks into him. Lord Novak not only holds his gaze, holds his chin but also his heart.

“It’s here,” Dean hisses before he can stop himself, his fear not for himself but for the Lord still oblivious of the claw of death behind him. Dean raises his eyes to the lingering apparition behind the Lord. The headless riser is still on his horse, not moving, but waiting for something to happen. Waiting for what?

Panic rises in Dean and for some reason, he wants to grab the Lord. The Lord can’t also lose his life, whatever the stories conjured up against him, right now he is the only one Dean is clinging on because nothing in those intense blue eyes speak of fear despite the fact of being in the middle of the forest where the Headless Horseman resides.

[ ](https://soluscheese.tumblr.com/post/629536895343476736/the-night-watchmans-secret-by-spnsmile-for-the?fbclid=IwAR0JL3-iDCEqncCrcYKpXmwRuN_mZJsVBLKdYQTQDwZn8nfV3nwWMZJJaSA)

Then again… why is the Lord not afraid?

Dean shakes his head, wide eyes at the red eyes of the horse when the Lord’s delicate fingertips pull him back.

Dean stops breathing. Their noses are far too close and his eyes are ever blue. Either the Lord is unaware of the accursed creature or that he was paying it no heed, Dean is mesmerized by how they are now breathing the same air. 

“I said,” Lord Novak’s eyes don’t leave him and the next thing their lips ghost each other, “only look at me.”

Their lips seal as the kiss. It doesn’t last long, enough to brush and there’s something special with the kiss that has Dean’s spirits lifting up. Has his whole body heating up and trembling and wanting more when the soft chapped lips disappear? 

The Lord stands up abruptly to look behind him where the creature was standing last only to find it empty.

Dean stares at the Emptiness and then to Lord Novak who stands impressively under the moonlight that finally decides to show itself just to show the emanating moonlight around the Lord’s body as if merely reflection but his skin glows under the moonlight so heavenly he looks like one of those creatures with glowing white skin not among the mortals—

Dean swallows hard at the majestic view.

But the delicate feature doesn’t last as the deep, earth-quaking voice spoke—and is it Dean’s imagination or did the Headless rider tenses? Impossible! But then—

“This man is bonded to me… you may not take him.”

The dark horse with red eyes unleashes a thunderous cry so loud enough to terrify Dean that he shut his palms in his ears and crouches low on the ground, the dark essence reverberating in the air the same time his body feels like it’s being punctured by thousands of needles and his right arm with the mark burns—

Dean cries in awful pain and holds his wrist tight like it’s about to burst into flames. He can’t get the scream off his head—the cackle that once taken over now in anguish and terrible anger. The wind picks up and the swirl is terrifying.

“Make it stop!” he screams, sweat running down his face, his arm trembling and to Dean’s horror—the way it tugs to his side—as if it wants nothing but to get cut and fly directly to the Headless Horseman. Dean cries in pain at the searing pain—the arm is detaching itself and he screams some more.

Between his scream and the horse’s raging whine—there still stands Lord Novak who whips at him, touching his cheeks—their eyes meet again and all Dean can express is agony. Lord Novak wipes his tear and suddenly, the pain disappears. A building pressure remains on his right shoulder gripped tight by none other than the Lord whose eyes are blazing blue.

And Dean knows no more.


	5. Terribly Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In place of his head, lay an evil helmet,  
> With a grinning, demonic smile, that seemed to fit.  
> He landed on the ground, looked upon the town with dismay.  
> He chuckled a bit, and he thusly did say-

A terrible headache hits Dean the moment he comes to. He grumbles while reaching for his head as he crumples on his side. A palm brushes his hair and the warmth makes him want to moan. It’d be stupid though but it feels like a brand of protection. Maybe Sam has finally turned to their mother…

When Dean finally wakes up to see the light from the aperture of the curtains, he immediately bolts up as his eyes don’t recognize the room. Eyes wide, he looks at the soft linen on his lap, to the clean lavender night garment he is wearing, and then to the room. He immediately feels queasy.

_Where the…?_

“You’re awake? That’s good.”

Dean shoots a look to where the voice comes from only to find a tall man wearing a neat dark tailcoat over his white button-up, a simple well-arranged collar, and tight leggings. The man carries with him a tray and Dean recognizes him once he pulls the curtain open to reveal a tedious morning light.

“You…?” Dean breathes out, reaching a hand to the back of his own head and trying hard to remember—this man is the butler he saw at the pub and saw riding the Lord’s carriage… the man who made the announcement at the square…

The Lord’s Butler… Dean’s eyes widen and the memory returns to him in a flash. He gasps as he remembers everything.

“What happened?!” he says, throat dry.

The Butler who he knows by the name Inias doesn’t bother looking as he fixes hot coffee on the table in all manner of a groomed servant.

“You are brought back by his Lordship last night,” that’s all he says before straightening up and staring at Dean quietly, “If you require anything else, please just ring the bell, I will immediately attend to your need as his eminence see it fit that you be treated like a special guest.”

“Where—where is he?” Dean is still breathing hard. He throws his legs at the edge of the bed, shaking his head again at the slight dizziness, “And where are my clothes?”

“His eminence is still in his room and your…. The choice of attire has been given to the maids for washing. You may wear the clothes prepared by myself here,” he points at the side table next to a giant tub twice as big as Dean is used to using, “If you want to take a hot bath right now, Master Winchester, I can call one of the new valets to replace the water—”

“No, I’m fine,” Dean says quickly, finally able to shake his lightheadedness. He knows who are the servants in the house and the last thing he wants is for them to find where he’s been. He thinks of Sam and makes a mental note to call on Kevin to send a message. What happened last night—the fact that he’s here—he’s certain Sam will murder him out of worry. “I wish to speak to Lord Novak,”

Inias doesn’t speak but the way his eyebrow arches up, the way his pale eyes scrutinize Dean from head to foot, the watchman knows disapproval when he sees one. Dean sighs, “Fine after I take a bath, is that convenient?”

The butler tips his head and disappears but not after he tells Dean where to head for breakfast. Closing the door, Dean quickly takes off the nightgown and gets on to the lukewarm water that sent chills on his skin. The moment his body dips in, Dean sighs in relief and comfort. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, he only lets his head lean at the edge of the wooden tub. He tries to imagine the events last night and shudders at the thought of how the Headless Horseman had gone after him.

And there’s also the memory of Lord Novak. Dean opens his eyes when he doesn’t remember closing them. He remembers the way his skin glowed in the dark, the way his blue eyes held power against the creature, and how, as far as Dean can tell, Lord Novak withstood against the evil monster.

Dean sits up straight and begins cleansing himself in earnest. Once done, he uses the clean dry sheet to wipe himself and then grabs the garments prepared by the butler.

He grimaces when he sees the leather buckskins but had no choice and wore them anyway. The shirt and green waistcoat actually fitted him well, if not a little tighter around the leggings. The black coat is also fitted, except Dean doesn’t have any mirror to see his appearance so after getting the boots done, he walks out of the door and is greeted by a long hallway with plenty of portraits, expensive vases and paraphernalia. Dean looks back inside the room wondering if he should ring the bell. Deciding against it since the windows are also lighting the corridor, he chose the wing where the tall windows are high and facing the sun.

He walked a few more corridors, the sight of the gloomy trees outside the bleak clouds gave him a somber mood. He doesn’t really know where he is headed. One thing for sure, he’s not even certain he wants to meet the Lord yet with his head still in shambles. The reason for his flight may be one reason, just imagining the wrath behind the Lord’s eyes after he found Dean and his illicit activities…. There’s also the mystery of Lord Novak’s connection to the Headless Rider.

Dean can’t be certain.

He walks the corridors leading one hallway to another until he finds himself facing a bricked wall leading down to what seemed like an underground. Dean wonders idly if it leads to the grounds too since he is in the third flight in the manor.

Upon descent, he did not expect the mist nor the sudden sweet lavender scent that pervaded his nostrils, nor the body that suddenly sprang up from the large stone tub that splashed water everywhere.

Dean stops breathing. 

There before him stands a very naked Lord Castiel Novak in all his glory with the grace of water run down his shapes and contours of perfection. Dean sways back a little, both enthralled and terrified. His eyes linger on Lord Novak’s neck where he can clearly see a long stretching mark from one end of his neck to another—a scar line that looked somewhat like the skin’s been sewn back.

Dean gasps this time when the eyes meet the blue and even if Dean wanted to run, he can’t. A pull so strong keeps him staying on his ground, not even when Lord Novak's lightning bolt gaze hits him—he will take it.

Because Lord Novak’s naked form is a view Dean will never regret to have seen and is prepared to be punished for it.

Their gazes lasted for more than a minute with the Watchman shamelessly raking his eyes up and down the Lord until the master closed his eyes and shook his head.

_“I am not your whore.”_

* * *

_I’m not your whore._

Dean wished the words didn’t strike him or affect him, but as much as he tries to deny it, he couldn’t help his thoughts drifting back to the figure of the Lord’s body. Arousal seeps to his skin, dull stir in the lower of his stomach upon remembering the porcelain skin untouched and unclaimed, the protruding collarbones and hip bones under waxed skin, hooking him to get closer, the flushed color of his cheeks, his plush chapped lips making Dean’s mouth water.

And the Lord just had to strike his nerve too.

_Not your whore._

_I will make you one if you do not stay off my head now!_ He almost growls, the front of his breeches too obvious with its needs. Dean tries to distract himself away from the thought of the dreamy thoughts of one Lord allowing to get bent over, which only tells Dean he can’t stay there. The date of the Rider’s promised claim is over, it should be safe now. He doesn’t intend to stay, he means to leave the moment he got his bearings but there he finds himself seated at the grand table with the master of the house, sharing a generous meal. The dining hall is large as what’s to be expected from a mansion, tall ceiling, expensive table wears, place reeking of wood and candle.

“Very warm,” Dean begins a little snark in his tone that caused the lord to lift his electrifying eyes. Curses fly inside Dean’s head imagining those lips captured to his. It’s an attestation of the Lord’s beauty for Dean has never experienced this kind of arousal before. Not to any women, not too strong on men. But god, he is incredibly beautiful under the shade of bright lights, jawline as sharp as his knife, blue eyes of the moon shaming the sky. They gazed at him full and intense. Dean thinks he is unworthy.

“Pardon?”

Dean swallows, feeling a strange swirl in the pit of his stomach.

“The place… it’s warm considering you’ve only been back like uh… some nights ago?” he picks up his fork and spoon. Lord Novak’s eyes flicker in his direction.

Dean tastes the food. He wonders what the lord was eating before he hired those people from the village. The butler looked like he could cook an ox. Still, there was no reason for the lord to deny knowing his name. Then again, seeing him with the lady the other night might just wipe the memory away.

“What did you say was your name again?”

His voice makes Dean want to chase its echo and swallow it for stealing his breath away.

“Winchester, Dean Winchester.”

“And you’re… a watchman?”

“I like doing my share of being useful to my countrymen,”

“I remember how useful you were to some,” The Lord says, and the way his eyes flicked darkly making Dean understand he was speaking of a different circumstance of being useful. Silence falls, Dean picks on the meat and doesn’t touch it. He can feel the Lord’s eyes on him.

“You are somebody I haven’t seen you around these parts.”

“Forgive me, but it was you who was never around for a year.”

“So you came here from a year ago. The townspeople just… trusted you to be their evening guard?” his question came more from curiosity than an accusation, “And on your part, you just accepted the job and judging from your response to the the…creature, you have met it before? You stood before it with confidence.”

“I don’t scare easily,” Dean says with much more conviction than he thought he had, “My brother and I were called here in this town to help a friend of our benefactor. Then… the creature came…”

Lord Novak’s eyes gleamed.

“You’ve been cursed.” He stood up and before Dean knew what’s happening, the lord was there beside him, leaning down on him with blue eyes dark and forbidding. “Show me.”

Dean knew what he was talking about. He immediately raised his right arm and showed him. The lord’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes flicker again. Their eyes meet.

“You’re about to die.” He told him bluntly.

“I know,” Dean says, feeling not afraid whatsoever. The blue eyes met his once more, his eyes darting down the lord’s lips. He can’t help it. As far as he was concerned, the man’s highly attractive who thinks Dean’s nothing but a whore himself.

Nothing to clean the slate with that.

The Lord pressed his lips and Dean knew he stared long enough to make meaning. His heart thundering, he raised his eyes and met the blue. Lord Novak is a power on his own held in those eyes. And he doesn’t get distracted easily.

“I do not know if this is bravery or foolishness, but I heard they are sometimes both.” He straightens, “Come to my study, I want to know the details of how you became a victim of this land’s cursed creature.”

The lord turned away leaving Dean staring after him. He didn’t notice he had forgotten to breathe until he was letting out an exhale. The Lord has this effect too magnanimous to be ignored. Like he takes all the air in the room. Dean shakes his head. This was no time to mesmerize and pay attention to the wanton call his body exhibits. If he went by Sam’s plan, he can gouge out information from the lord… find out if there is something that can remove the mark.

He found the lord seated at the best chair in the middle of the room. Castiel stared into the burning fire by the heart of the room and with an indication of his delicate finger, Dean took the chair opposite him. Only a small table divides their seats and on it, two glasses of wine sit. Dean wonders where the butler appears and disappears. He is either very good at concealing himself or just plain marauder himself.

“You have questions,” Lord Novak began, “everyone has. The villagers have always believed we Novaks are cursed by fate. That the horseman is a kinsman. A year's stay in the village must’ve told you everything you need to know about my family.”

“No disrespect, but yes,” Dean says, earning him a cold stare from Lord Novak.”

“I can tell you everything,” Lord Novak said. Dean nods.

“It’s safer to tell an already dead man like me, is it?”

The lord gapes at him and Dean thought he saw the corner of his lips perk up, blue eyes twinkle. Dean stares. The lord is handsome in all respects, enigmatic, mysterious, things that he really wants to uncover.

“You truly are not afraid of the horseman? Pray tell me, how did you become unfortunate enough to be the next sacrificial lamb in the field? The rider does not simply choose… contrary to what you heard from the village it chooses its meal on a golden plate after a year’s fasting.

“I will tell you, but you have to tell me why it kills the villagers and where it came from?” He thought it would take persuasion but the Lord merely cast his eyes down.

“Do you believe in the undead, master watchman?” he says quietly.

Dean narrows his eyes. Lord Novak glances at him and his smile is small.

“I do not deem you as someone short-sighted not to believe that which cannot be seen by the eyes?”

“You have me read, what of it? Why does this creature kill?”

“It does so to keep existing,” Lord Novak says simply, “It is a restless spirit from the days of the great war in this land. A spirit with a dead body. Some from the villagers would call it’s a soldier, a warrior—they are wrong. They are evil spirits that had lurked in this place before any civilization founded this place, this is a burial ground and these restless spirits guard them. Until my family invoked the curse. At least, from what my ancestor’s record says, this land had seen blood from the first century that it became a dwelling place for darkness. For so long no one dared to venture this place until my great grand ancestor, Ishim Novak bought the land, greedy and faithless that he is. In doing so took the wrath of so many evil creatures… it called upon a dark spirit, one that took the form of a beast in the dark with glowing red eyes. Some would call it later as the devil himself. It stirred unrest and suspicion among the growing family until Ishim was found dead on his bed, beheaded by either a servant or family member he mistreated. That’s when it began.”

Lord Novak reaches for a glass of wine. Dean follows him with his eyes, mesmerized.

“From records, it said it was during a deadly night when dark clouds plunged the lands into great darkness, a bitter wind swirled among the stone walls of the land now called Sleepy Hollow. Vicious rain showered the whole land. An unusual shadow covered the skies that troubled the hearts of many and stories of the past age were murmured inside each house that kindled fear to those who heard it. Then there were those who claimed to see a shadow up the Manor before a flash of great lightning struck the lands, instilling more doubts as to the tale of robbery of Ishim Novak’s body. His family learned his grave had been desecrated and if his heart spoke of truth, then it was more than robbery but sorcery that was beyond any of their mortal strength. Something else happened then, a beast appeared and riding it was a headless man and it killed without prejudice… it takes souls, my dear watchman,” he adds when Dean opens his mouth.

The lord turns to him. “So why how did the devil find you?

Dean frowns. “He attacked my brother, I got in its way. But why curse me?”

Castiel gives Dean a strange look. Dean sits straight and avoids his eyes. The way he can stare like he wants something and the power to take it without expecting refusal is…captivating.

“It doesn’t do it a lot, only claiming the next body it will inhabit.”

Dean’s mouth fell. “You mean—you mean it will take my body?”

“I won’t let him.”

They stare at each other, Dean mostly confused. “You won’t let…?”

“That’s what I said.” The Lord stares at the fire again. Dean’s head is aching, pounding inside his skull. The Lord is taking light in this conversation, “I simply won’t allow it.”

Dean turns but not after hearing a whisper from the Lord about 'something beautiful' which he ignored. If the Lord thinks he is in any way of beauty after realizing his fate as the evil creature's next vessel, he might as well perish. A question pops in his mind.

“Then why didn’t it attack you?”

“You see, that body is my brother’s. My other twin, brothers.” Lord Novak says. “Go piece it together, but I tell you, if you want to prolong your life and you want lesser death in the village, then by my side you should stay. You are safest here.”

“Just like that? You’re going to help me?”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it, because like you did, my twin brother got in the way and saved me too. I don’t want any more victims in his hands.”

"That's..." Dean falls silent, his mind erupting with questions but the only thing that actually registers is that if there’s anyone who can help him through this, it’s Lord Novak.


	6. Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prepare yourselves, the bells have tolled.  
> Shelter your weak, your young and your old.  
> Each of you shall pay the final sum.  
> Cry for mercy. The reckoning has come!"

He stays in his room most of the days, watching the bleak sky with disinterest. Yesterday he was too occupied to be caring about anything but after a night on the soft bed in his own room in the manor, he found himself thinking of his brother. He hoped Sam’s okay. Lord Novak took care of his every need but Dean knows it cannot remain this way. They spent the whole day drinking that day, Dean learning more of the Lord’s resentment of his family and how they all left him of the Manor and that he had no choice but to shoulder it because he loves his brother dearly.

Dean sympathizes with that. All this time, he thought the lord was a prick. They both said goodnights, the Lord walking with Dean back to his room. Before he closes the door, he finds himself staring at the lord again until his shadow disappears in the dark, slender form drawing attention.

The next day as he stood there brooding about his next step, he found himself So finally working up the courage, he went out of his room, got lost in the corridor once before he found himself outside Lord Novak’s study room.

It’s funny, he and Lord Novak had never conversed again after that night. Dean becomes physically aware of how much the Lord affects him he ends up taking care of his needs with back on the door to make sure no one sees him. Whatever Lucifer said about him, whatever he thinks he knows, whatever this society thinks of it, Dean disregards them as he calls Lord Novak’s name in the split seconds of his climax.

He takes more shower in the tub brought in by one of the newly hired men, a friendly man named Benny whom Dean helped carried the water no matter how much bulky he is. The other servants were nice to him too, all except Inias who kept his distance, even with the Lord’s gradual ease to calling Dean by his given name.

The stay only made him realize how much he misses Sam.

Making up his mind, he knocks on the door of the Lord one night.

“Come in.”

Dean comes in. He finds the Lord seated high up the wooden ladder next to the tall bookshelves Dean knows his brother would die to see.

“Um… I need to go back to the village today.” He keeps his ground, face straight making sure not to let on any of his feelings to his expression. Castiel doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t answer either.

“I thought we agreed you’d stay here, Dean.” He says quietly, examining what looked like an old journal on his desk.

“Yes, but I need to let my brother know I’m okay. And I’m not really asking.”

Lord Novak stares at him.

“Then I shall accompany you.”

“You don’t need to…”

“I insist, I also need to see someone from there.” he jumps down the ladder gracefully, the tail of his coat flying behind him like wings. Dean can never understand how someone frightfully beautiful can act both cold and caring at the same time.

“Who?”

“My father.”

Dean stares. Who in the world…?

Dean and Castiel did not exchange words throughout their night journey towards Carrytown. They manage all the way with only some nods and shake of heads. The watchman did not persist on bugging the Lord. He had another plan for the both of them that not even the lithe Lord could refuse. He will make sure of that because between the two of them he was the dominant character, and yet he turns to puddles every time he casts a look at the glorious appearance of his Lordship.

In one turn, before Dean knew it, they were down the road in the middle of the afternoon, the sky gray almost threatening fall of rain from heavy clouds with the road almost empty. Dean led the way back to his inn where he met the landlord.

“Boy—you’re alive!”

“Thank you, where’s my brother?”

“Sam? I don’t know, he went out early after the long search for you last night—oh my—Is it Lord Novak?” his eyes bulge. Dean turned behind him and sure enough, Lord Castiel Novak wearing his thick tan coat covering his shoulder stood at the threshold eyeing Dean.

“Where is your brother?”

“Looking for me, come he must be in his office. He is a barrister.”

“A barrister and a watchman…” Lord Novak murmurs as he and Dean walk side by side out of the gate, ignoring the landlord’s surprise expression, “You Winchester lead exciting lives.

Dean smiles cheekily. They walked the familiar road of the infamous place and minutes later he could see the tall gates of Carrytown’s hall. Lord Novak excused himself and disappeared to wherever he was going. Dean proceeded upstairs to Sam’s office except his brother wasn’t there. Dean worried about him until the Lord returned where Hollow House, another infamous place for most men, was located.

"Do you remember this place?" asked the Watchman as he slid down his horse when they stopped in front of the stables near the bar. "This is where I first saw you.”

"I remember.” Castiel looked at the sign above the tall, "You were very compelling to your subordinates.”

"This is where most folk take turn to listen to the gossip," Dean explained as he moved toward the doorway, "This is also where we can expect Sam to hear that I’m back and alive…and uh…”

He glances at Lord Novak suddenly.

The Lord arches a strong dominant eyebrow. Dean shudders inside. They entered the Inn and saw its usual scene every night. Men drinking and talking, laughing and some even screaming in delight. Lord Novak seemed too surprised by the behavior of the men but with bearing and calculated coldness, he proceeded with Dean. Dean felt him tense so he walked a little far, until he felt the Lord's hand on his arm and pulled him close to him.

Castiel felt the gesture and was somehow glad by it. He realized Dean was the only person he could trust in the midst of these people.

"Dean," whispered the Lord, and Dean was glad for the use of his name, "I do not drink this kind of beverage much…"

Dean smirks and finished both pints. The roars of laughter from the village folks who noticed Dean, who all thumped his back like he’s part of the counter table made him grimace. He notices the Lord eyeing him and the people around him. They recognize the Lord, yes, after the ball and the abrupt disappearance of the Lord, of course they are curious. Dean almost gets possessive when one tried to approach him, but one slow stare from the Lord and the attempt stopped in its own accord.

“They seem nice. Are they celebrating your return?” Castiel comments, making Dean burst into laughter.

“What is so funny?”

“No, forgive me, my lord… but these people, they celebrate because it’s over. The visit of the Horseman. They can no go live their lives… in the same gloom.”

Rain taps the window of the pub. Dean sees Castiel look over in concern.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping any time soon…”

Dean stares as well. “Give it time…”

An hour later, Dean watches the contorting grimace in the Lord’s expression upon the decision of staying in the inn. Dean had to, Castiel doesn’t seem like one able to keep his eyes open for another minute or two. Suggesting the room upstairs, the Lord shook his head.

“I insist… after your hospitability of accommodating me in your home.” They clambered the steps, Castiel bringing up the rear and when they reach the top, the two glances at each other.

“What are we doing here?”

"We are here to stay in one of the rooms." Dean answered as he saw Ellen, the innkeeper, behind the counter busily serving drinks to a group of men. The Watchman's eyes seemed to pierce through the owner for after a moment the owner looked up and instantly saw him. Dean gave him a nod, like usual, and the owner deserted her position to run along the wall where he was keeping the keys.

"Let's go." The Watchman pulled Castiel across the room to where they followed Ellen up the stairs.

"You do have a specific taste." Ellen told him, as she unlocked the seventh door to the left and pushed it open, "It's good to see you too as well, my lord."

Castiel was taken aback by the greeting of the owner that he only managed to give him a nod.

"This is your room." She says, pulling the keys off the door and handing it to Dean, "It's a little noisy downstairs so I must ask for forgiveness, my Lord."

"That's alright, he’s fine" Dean answered, only wanting to keep away from eyes, even that of Ellen already making him turn scarlet. "That is actually in favor for us."

"Do you need anything else, Dean?”

"Yes, two bottles of your best ale, Elle, and if Sam arrives, tell him—”

“Oh, I know what to say,” Ellen nods, gives Castiel one very meaningful look and left the two in solitude, closing the door after her.

Dean took off his heavy sword and set it on the table saying- "You can cleanse your lordship on the bathing room, Castiel, and then you can join me here for a few drinks." He unloaded some of his weapons too and was busily hiding them under the drawer when he realized Castiel not moving.

Curious, he looked at the Lord and saw that he was watching him.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he continued to pull his belt of weapons away from his body.

"Why are we here?" the Lord asked with his unblinking eyes, "Why didn't we just continue to your own lodging?” he frowns grumpily at the small chair beside his own.

"I prefer to stay here." was Dean's short answer, "I am comfortable in this place. And the rain doesn’t look like it would stop any time soon. It’s safer for you here.”

Which was true. To have Castiel anywhere near his lodging… the things he would do…Castiel, who had been frowning on the bed, opened his mouth in protest as his arms slid down on either side of him.

"What do you mean?" came his strangled voice, and the captain heard the evident anger in it so he took another drink from his bottle and set it on the table with a serious look. He then stood up, making the Lord straighten up in alert and uncertainty as to what the man was going to do next.

Dean took one look at the doubtful Lord before him before sighing loudly.

"I have told you before," he started, talking each step close to the Lord as he spoke, with his voice vibrating as he goes, "not to come along… why did you insist? The Rider—"

“You take me for a fool if you think I would believe your optimism, it will return as it did for my brother,” Castiel glances around the room like a feline trying to familiarize itself with the scent. He finds the bed, tilts his head adoringly and then slumps down, blinking at the creaking sound instead of the bouncy springs. Dean thinks he is adorably gifted of being just…

“You know, being optimistic is all I’ve got.”

“I believe it is.” Castiel meets his gaze. “I’ve never met anyone so… vibrant as you. I sometimes think you just go out there to call the attention of all the supernatural and make yourself a live bait.”

Dean bursts out laughing. Castiel keeps a straight face though, his frown almost suggests a pique of interest. “You laugh good, Dean Winchester… I never thought you could look even more handsome than you already do.”

Dean freezes. The Lord simply pulls his eyes away after his praise and to hell with Dean if he was going to leave it at that. He could be dying tomorrow and they are in a room, there are two beds which could be arranged, but the most important thing is that Castiel lets him. Dean stands up and walks towards the bed.

He sees Castiel tense up, sees him watch his every move. Dean stops in front of the Lord, which did not move on his spot with only a strange look to himself. Dean pitied himself as he stared at those blue eyes. He had been longing to be with his beloved for so long…And the familiar beast on his chest started roaring again. He had not felt it when Castiel was with him. Only then…and he knew… It was his desire to be one with the Lord once and for all.

He took another step near as the Lord continued to remain silent. With the closer distance he could feel the familiar smell of the heavenly being; he could see his pale skin attracting him to go wild. He again came close to the tender lips he had longed to kiss. He would give up anything not to stop.

"Dean…” came the Lord's deep voice hesitates. Dean did not care. He kneels down, and he reaches for him, touching Lord’s shoulders, wrapped his arms around him and pulled. He could feel Castiel pushing him back as their eyes met. There was doubt on the Lord's blue orbs.

"Let go of me…" the Lord whispered as he refused the man's attempt to kiss him. "Do not touch me…"

But Dean could feel the Lord's body was with him, that it remembered who he was and was screaming for him. He pulled Castiel closer with his hands sliding down the Lord's hips. He grabbed hold of his bottom and pressed it to his own body. Castiel's body tensed and he could not help the gasp that escaped his mouth.

That was when Dean saw his chance and planted a passionate kiss on the lips he loved.

The Lord clenched his fist on Dean's chest not knowing what to do. The kiss the man was giving him was sending electricity to his body. He wanted to refuse, say his no, and kill the man for daring to touch him. But alas, like he was drugged on with the man's smell and caress, the Lord could not order his body to stop. And he was losing himself with every moment the man was devouring him. It was futile to refuse.

When the man felt the Lord's hands unclenching on his chest, he knew he had won. With aggressiveness circulating him, he carried the Lord and settled him on the table where he continued to kiss his lips. Castiel holds his shoulders firmly, lips unmoving for a moment but with much goading, Dean gets him to open up. He slips a tongue in, exploring the heat inside the mouth he’s been dreaming of kissing.

Dean's hands wildly touch around the Lord's body, he slips his palms between Castiel’s legs, feeling the bulk of his hard length. Castiel gasps. Dean kisses him through it, and then finally raises the cloth that was hiding his beautifully crafted chest and nipples. The man moaned in hunger as he untangled his tongue from the Lord and kisses his neck.

Castiel seems to awake from the spell as their lips separated, and he found himself sitting on the table with the man violating his whole body. He could only cry in alarm.

"Dean…” he moans in a pointless attempt to regain his dignity. He tried to slowly pull his chest away that was being consumed greedily by the man's hungry lips. But his sudden touch to his very sensitive genital made the Lord's head sway and he forgot what it was that he was trying to refuse. And his body started to heat more and more…

Dean's large and calloused hand had taken hold of the attractive rod between the Lord's thighs and he did not miss the opportunity to stroke it in pleasure. The excitement he was feeling was uncontrollable and the idea that he had once again took hold of his cock.

"Cas!" he breaths hard as he released his own in the intensity of the night. "You…I…" He pressed his hands down the being's legs and slowly parts them. Castiel couldn’t speak, his backside touched the table and Dean stays between his thighs. Dean bites his lower lip as he curved his body, preparing to enter the dome he was dreaming of. He takes care of him, slipping in a gentle finger not knowing if what he’s doing was right, but he’s taken lots of practice with himself, and the Lord’s body is so lithe and untouched, making Dean heartily suck his groins. He tastes so good.

When at last he was ready, he clutched the Lord's legs and pushed in, making the Lord scream in delighted pleasure and pain. The man rocked backward and forward, his perspiration sliding down his heated body. Castiel unexpectedly moved so sexily that Dean was tempted to slide his hands down the slim body.

"Beautiful," he whispers, digging in, hard and rocking his hips nonstop.

"Ahhh! Nnnn! ahh…!" was the faint scream from the Lord's lips And Dean was loving it. He doesn’t stop rocking in, chasing the pleasure and with a final thrust, sighs in relief as he comes inside him. _"You're beautiful like this, my Lord... just for me..."_

He was certain he felt the Lord stiffen.

* * *

The fire crackled on the fireside as Dean stared at it from the bed. Castiel was sleeping beside him, looking tired but still angelic. The man had his head on his arm and there was something between them that changed after an hour of being alone.

The man pressed his eyes close, and then started at the sleeping beauty beside him. Feeling both content and satisfied, he reached for those pale cheeks, with high cheekbones, sliding down to those petal-shaped lips and staying there. After their union, the Lord had collapsed on the bed in exhaustion and the man carried him on the bed. He had been watching the being sleep for sometime before the crackling flames got his attention. He knew this moment was what he had been waiting for, and his wait did not go to waste.

Just then Castiel stirred. Dean stayed silent and waited for those eyes to open and look at him.

Slowly, the Lord's eyes flickered open and the blue met the green.

"Cas" whispered the man, touching the Lord's cheek gently. Castiel stared back at him, and then without a word sat up straight swiftly. He slid his legs on the floor and was about to stand up when a strong hand pulled him back on the bed.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Castiel slapped his hands away and sat farther as he could on the bed with his electrifying blue eyes piercing the man.

"I need to go, I cannot stay here.”

“Why?” Dean’s heart sinks. “I thought…” Did he read the sign wrong?

“What you thought was wrong," the Lord says with gritted teeth as he gathered some covers on the bed to hide his body, "I will never go through something so humiliating again!"

Dean's anger flared as he stared back at those stubborn blue. "I refuse to sleep another night with you!" was the answer.

"Cas-”

"It’s Lord Novak.”

The defiance on the Lord's blue eyes died down a little, but his will was still there. They stared at each other in heated emotion until finally the Lord pulled his wrist away from Dean and said in his coldest voice.

"I have no idea how I became such a slave to you…" he started, his eyes full of accusation, "But do you know who I am? Have you an idea who you are violating in this bedroom?"

Dean did not speak. The coldness of the Lord's voice was hurting him.

"About this secret…?" he painfully asked, remembering the old Lord he was with.

Castiel held his chin high as he said without any doubt in his voice.

"Just trust me, Dean. You do not want to associate yourself with me.”

Because of the Horseman? Because of the curse? Dean doesn't say anything. The man's string of thoughts was halted when he felt the blue eyes of the Lord boring on him. He looked up and met the Lord's eyes.

"Please," Castiel whispered that startled the man, "take me to the manor.”

Dean could not react to that. Gritting his teeth and closed eyes, clenching his hands and sighing.

"Alright." He responds quietly, "I'll bring you back."

A sigh of what sounded to be relief escaped the chapped lips. Dean heard him too clear.

"Cas, I-"

"There must be a good reason," Castiel's voice was firm, and Dean recognized it well. It was the voice of his Lord that has made him resolve- except that, he wasn't his anymore. "I will act as your shield against my kin, but nothing more. I refuse to be your lover or someone who will keep you company at night. Go find yourself another whore."

Castiel stares at him coldly. He did not move. He simply stared at the heavenly being who was doing his best not to look at him. Was it all over?

"Okay," Dean murmured as he turned away, "Just wait here… I will call the carriage back.”

And with that, the watchman took his leave and closed the room behind him. The Lord sat immobilized on the bed, feeling lonely all of a sudden…

Dean stayed in the bar where a number of men were still drinking in the middle of the night. He got himself a bottle of ale and drank in solitude near the heart of the room where he asked the same question in his head over and over again…

_Was it all over?_


	7. Lord Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His horse took off, into a steady flight,  
> His vile laughter filled the night.  
> He held aloft his sabre, A hell he will raise,  
> And the sword then suddenly did catch ablaze.
> 
> Boulders of fire flew through the night,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops. still need editing^^ my bad~

He didn’t want to leave him. But he was scared, for himself and Dean Winchester who lit his night and ignited the fire in his body, the vessel sanctuary he once promised his brother’s vessel to surrender when the time comes, but he never did, coward that he is…

And now he confirmed what the intense eye exchanges were about, the silent looks they shared, Dean’s passion for him knew no bounds and it scared him… because the irony of things, the spirit wanted Dean’s body… when in the beginning it was fated to take his own after a decade… now Dean…

When Castiel got up first thing in the daylight the first person his eyes looked for was the man. Dean did not return last night till this morning when he felt him getting his weapons on the drawer and then leaving again with nothing but a glance in his direction. It was a bit surprising, but he wondered what the man was up to so he followed him swiftly downstairs and onto the daylight where he saw him standing between their horses, one was a black mare and the other was of pure white. The man seemed to sense him for he turned around and faced him with what seemed to be a new aura.

"I want to be the night watchman in the manor.”

Castiel barely opened his mouth when the man spoke again.

"Dean, you don’t have to-”

“I will make myself useful, have a good day.”

“Dean, wait.” Lord Novak calls, slipping his feet on the floor, robes hanging off his shoulder that made Dean avoid looking at his silky skin. “I… I want to take a ride on the hills… I want you to accompany me.”

Dean doesn’t ask. He just nodded. Dean helped him to slide up his horse half an hour later.

"I know well how to climb a horse," he said in alarm, watching Dean get up on his own.

The man looked up at him and then smiled a real smile the Lord could not help noticing, the first one in a few days…

"I am merely helping." was his short reply.

They traveled northeast, where the path was long and free from any creatures. They talk less, except when Dean was asking something to the Lord or telling him some information about the forest.

The Lord could swear he saw Dean hunch his shoulder. But it could just be his imagination because after a moment the man stared up to him again looking at him in disbelief.

"Do you always ask a question to your heart's content?"

Castiel frowned. "I was merely under the impression that you would answer me."

"I am answering. But only until then. I'd like to keep myself private."

"I understand." The Lord turned his face up to the night sky and felt comfortable. It was his first night with nature in what felt like a very long time. Castiel could just feel the scent of the flowers and trees and the Carrytown’ of nature's air. He felt comfortable and welcomed. He stayed like that for hours, talking silently as a gift… until he realized something.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he asked the fellow beneath him.

There was a soft chuckle, and then after a moment, a voice answered.

"No… not when I am out and about."

Castiel remained looking at the sky. "I can guard us both. I am a Lord."

"I do not underestimate you." was the man's answer, "But this is how I am… and will always be."

The Lord considered, and then stayed silent for the rest of the dark hours.

The next morning they continued traveling with not much delay. Castiel could feel his pulse aching for the sight of his village. With their speed, they could reach Sleepy Hollow by tomorrow's sunset.

In their short ride, the Lord could not help but notice his only companion. Once or twice he had seen him looking his way, and mostly it was with sad eyes. The Lord never reacts to this. He knew what those eyes meant, it was searching for something…something that he said they once shared, but he really could not remember what they had for one another. Unless the man tells him again, but even so, the feeling was not there… or was it?

Dean was a good man, he knew that very much. From the moment he awoke on the walls of the manor the name of the man had been ringing on his ears. The way he leads his men, the way he finds merriment in small things, it all proves what his heart contains. But Castiel could never admit it. The man may consider this a light for what he claimed to be a relationship. He was just too confused, and what more, if what Dean said was true, then why did he forget about him? What happened that made him forget? Also, he figured he had doubts. When the man took his body on their first night together he could not help but feel Dean was only after his body that would be most humiliating. But how could he explain his body's response to the man's lips? As if he had known him for too long? Is that how they shared their relationship before? If that is so…

Dean still feels embarrassed about the event in the inn. And the fact that he still stays in the Novak Manor makes him uncomfortable but working as a watchman for the Lord seems the perfect job. It keeps him out of the Lord’s way. The tension when they meet each other is explicit, and Dean can’t help remembering the night he and the lord united. It took a tall. He spent his time in the towers at night, only the torch to accompany him.

He found the lord in his study room seated again on his chair. They eyed each other.

“I would like to borrow a book.”

Castiel eyes him, then stands up. Dean watched him then walked closer when the lord gestured for him to come forward.

“What kind of book do you read?”

“Just… something to keep me awake while doing patrol.”

“You don’t need to do that, Dean?”

Dean doesn’t answer. Lord Novak turns and hands him a book. He knows the Lord watched him till he was out of the room.

The night was deep and Dean wasn’t really sleepy when he heard someone pushing the door open. Looking up, Dean sees Lord Novak in his white satin clothes and loose buttons look around for him. Dean inhales. He looks magnificent under the torch light.

“Dean…if you don’t mind me joining you…”’

Dean nods.

They shared companionable silence until the night passed and the Lord bid him goodnight, but not after giving Dean a lingering stare.

On their second night, the man requested something that never crossed the Lord's mind.

"What?" he asked, blinking from the way up the tree he has perched up again.

Dean sighed patiently as he said again when he noticed him staring.

"I like the name Dean," whispered the man with his head facing the fire and Castiel had a sudden urge to leap down and to see what expression he was having at that moment.

“It’s just a name like any other.”

"No, it’s not…" the Lord whispered, and Dean felt a sudden throb on his heart. What is this feeling…?

He watches Castiel, restless he seems that night with eyes hardly able to keep from Dean. Dean looks at the ground. The next time he looks up, Castiel is staring at him again. His lips open as if to say something, but he closes it. Dean stares, his throat drying.

“I should go,” the Lord said, his face flushed.

He stands up but Dean assaults him, pushes him on the wall, and kisses the life out of his master. Lord Novak moans against his lips and Dean knows they both want it this time. He’s not letting go, he’s wanted the Lord. He wanted Castiel that night they met. Wanted to make those powerful gaze bow to him, so he kissed him, biting his bottom lip, suckling on his pointed chin, the shape of his jaw, tracing his teeth along Castiel’s throat and leaving marks. He pulls the Lord up his hips, letting Castiel tangle his legs around his waist, and then he stops.

[ ](https://soluscheese.tumblr.com/post/629536895343476736/the-night-watchmans-secret-by-spnsmile-for-the?fbclid=IwAR0JL3-iDCEqncCrcYKpXmwRuN_mZJsVBLKdYQTQDwZn8nfV3nwWMZJJaSA)

Castiel had wrapped his arms around his neck and they stared at each other.

“Is this acceptable? Or are you going to reject me in the morning again?”

Castiel blinks slowly. “I want you. That’s all I know.”

And that’s enough for Dean.

* * *

On their next ride, Castiel is more jovial, easily smiling at Dean. They’ve made this a hobby now, since Sleepy Hollow is actually a large land with thickened fairy tale trees that can get people lost in one step and find themselves in another mountain or at the edge of a cliff.

Castiel could see the familiar path he usually treads when having a little journey on his land. His excitement was uncontainable when finally, they were inside Sleepy Hollow forest and from a corner he could see the tower of his village.

"Our Village is not easily seen by uninvited guests." He told Dean lightly as they stopped just a few more horse rides to the palace with sunset upon them. "And usually there are already warriors waiting on this side of the forest, wondering where they are…"

He turned to the man with spirit in his eyes, but when he looked, he found that Dean wasn't listening, but in his deep stupor.

"Dean." Castiel made up his mind after sensing a little resentment on his heart, "Let's continue. I want to be home."

Dean shifted his eyes, and then nodded. Together they took the last distance toward the manor. The lord pulled into a halt and stares at the gate. Dean looks up and saw that there was a man waiting for them—a familiar man. To Dean’s surprise, saw the village leader. Castiel went in and saw the familiar face of his his father, Chuck.

"Castiel!" the Leader was too overwhelmed by his emotion as he glimpsed the face of his young lord.

"Father" Castiel bowed in respect, before running up to the warm arms of his father.

"Castiel, I finally did my promise justice.... You do not know how much I prayed for you to be safe! I knew you were- we could not find your body…my son!" his father was whispering in his ear as they embraced. Castiel could not help but feel emotional.

"I am here father, I am alive…forgive me for making you wait long..."

"Bless you, child," the Leader held his son one more time before letting go and looking at him in joy. "What happened to you? And I have heard from one of our kin that you returned with an father with you? Is this true?"

"Yes, father." nodded the Lord lord as he looked behind him only to find the lone man not there. A swift feeling of panic came over the lord as he could not find the face of the man among his kin, until one of the Lords opened the door and let the man in the throne hall.

A sigh of relief escaped Castiel' lips. He was only outside…

Dean bowed upon reaching the dais of the Leader's throne, something which Castiel found intriguing. He speaks our language and knows the precise way of bowing in front of royalties… who is this man?

When Dean looked up, the Leader couldn't help but feel something about his presence as well.

“We’ve met,” Dean tells him. Chuck nods with narrowed eyes.

"Yes… the man with questions about our village secret. The Nightwatchman?”

Dean raises his chin, "Yes, my Lord."

“And I hear from my son you have…”

Dean nods. Castiel stares at him.

Chuck smiled. "I cannot thank you enough for guarding this village, Dean.”

"It is nothing." whispered the man, "I am only doing my duty."

Castiel raised his head up.

"Well then, is there anything I can do to repay my debt, admirable watchman from the North?" the Leader asked in a good and honest way.

"There is nothing to repay my Lord." Dean looked up and stared at Castiel who felt suddenly pierced, "What I have received is enough."

"Well- that is honorable of you! But I must insist that you stay for the night because the sun is already setting! I will not allow a friend of this village to be put in danger just after he returned something that is a treasure to me!" the Leader was saying.

"That would be an honor." Dean bowed again, and when he looked up he was staring once more to the lord who flinched at how he was being looked at.

The night started to roll.

* * *

There was a huge celebration for the return of the lord. Castiel was widely greeted by his kin and deeply missed. Dean did not feel comfortable surrounded by many people but he tries hard not to show his discomfort. Except Lord Castiel's attention was somewhere else. It makes him grit his teeth for the lack of eyecontact... or was it that Castiel was avoiding him?

The Lord was walking along the hallway quietly and feeling as if a song was forming in his mind when he heard a yell somewhere. He looked around and saw that he was walking along the lord's room, where he thought the sound had come from.

"My lord?" he called worriedly as he took a step toward the door, "My lord is something the matter?"

There was silence, and then the lord answered.

"I am fine! It is nothing… Please leave…"

"Are you sure, my lord?"

"Yes… you are dismissed…"

The Lord stayed for a little bit, before finally deciding everything was alright and walking ahead, trying to remember the song on his mind.

Inside the lord's room however, everything was not alright.

Dean was there, and he had the lord cornered on the bed where they were sharing a rather forceful kiss.

When the lips parted Dean looked at the lord's eyes which had their reproving expression on them again.

"Why didn't you call for help?" he asked, as he kept the lord's hands tightly above him and his legs trapped below.

Castiel did not answer but gritted his teeth as he stared with sharp eyes at the impudent man. Dean smiled.

"Could it be…to be seen like this is a great humiliation?"

The man reached a hand on the Lord's chin and kissed him again.

It wasn't long before Dean had taken care of the Lord's upper garment. He took one look at the Lord's fiery eyes before indulging himself and kissing those pale chests. The Lord reacted with a soft gasp as he felt him talking possession- the feeling was familiar.

Dean suddenly sat up and undressed himself using his free hand. Castiel was still under him and by no means had his eyes closed tightly. When the man was sure of what to do, he resumed kissing the lordly lips, which he knew was the last time he would be kissing. The fire was ignited.

"Say it." The man whispered as his free hand slid down the Lord's torso, into the middle of his thigh that made the Lord moan, "Just beg me to stop. Say you hate me…"

Castiel replied by unstoppable moan as he felt Dean's hands touching him. The Lord was getting shaky from his touch and he knew it was about time to break him, for the last time.

"If you don't say it," Dean was serious as he met the blue orbs which were looking weak, "I'm going to take you…"

There was no response. Dean's eyes sparked and he continued to work on the Lord's body to receive him.

The fireside crackled.

Moments later found Dean in his watchman suit, sitting on the bed, with Castiel beside him, who was in a deep sleep.

He knew what he must do once he left Sleepy Hollow. Knew that he must do it or else he would regret in the end.

With a long sigh he looked at the Lord beside him who was fast asleep and looking tired. Watching his angelic face made the man smile sadly. He was blessed the day he found Castiel on that busy street under the rain. He was blessed when Castiel decided to stay with him and loved him. But he knew it was too good to be true. Knew his fate would not be too good to him, what with his future lying ahead. Now he had accepted that his time with his beloved wasn't destined to last. He had accepted that it was all a wonderful dream.

Reaching up, Dean crouched near Castiel and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I love you." he whispered solemnly, "Thank you for your time."

And with that, the watchman stood up and headed for the door where he stopped before it. He took another one last look at the sleeping being, before finally opening the door and closing it behind him.

He was going to leave everything behind, his memories, his dream, and his beloved.

It does not belong to him to begin with, that he knew, and accepted.

He was on his own again.

* * *

Castiel felt a whisper on his ears and woke up from his deep slumber.

Startled, he slowly rose from his bed and recognized his familiar room. Wondering what awoke him, he slowly slid his legs on the floor. Realizing that he was not wearing anything at all he headed for his dresser and picked a tunic and pants. As he was combing his hair with his elven-made-comb he started to feel that he was missing something.

looking around his room, the Lord lord frowned. Something was not right.

He walked up to the room's balcony to survey his surroundings. The sun was beginning to rise from the east, its sunbeam giving radiance to everything its ray could reach. The trees and leaves were rustling peacefully around, and the birds were merrily singing. Other animals were coming out of their little abode as well to greet the new day and life the Illϋvatar has granted. Everything was as right as the lord had imagined things to be. Except that something was still missing for him.

With his eyebrows creased into a frown, Castiel turned his back to the beauty any Lord would usually take time to take in. He crossed his room in quite a hurry and then stopped near the door, where he glanced around for his bed as if remembering something.

That night…something happened that night… Castiel stared fixedly at the bed, and then the night's event came rushing to him like a wave of water. There was a man beside him last night who took his body as he always does. Dean.

The door knob of his room turned and the Lord lord sharply looked around expecting the man's unruly black hair and green eyes to look in, only to find another of his kin getting inside. The two Lords stared at each other with the new comer blinleader in surprise at his lord.

"My lord," the Lord said after recovering his voice, "The Leader has sent for you. He said he wants you to join him at the table."

Castiel, who recovered poorly, nodded but didn't say anything. This did not come unnoticed to the other Lord.

"Are you feeling well, my lord?"

"I am fine." Castiel took a step forward, "I will follow suit, thank you."

The other Lord nodded and left. Castiel took his time, before finally moving and walking the other way where he headed for the man's room. He stopped in front of the door, thinking deeply if he should get in. He raised his hand to knock, but then decided against it at the last minute with a frown on his face as he remembered how the impudent man forcefully took his body again.

With a raised eyebrow, Castiel turned his head with his chin up.

"Punishment for last night. Starve for a little while." He muttered and headed for the dining chamber with a look of triumph on his eyes.

It did not take him long to reach the chamber and join his father on the table who was merrily having a conversation with one of his councilors. When the Lord lord came in, the Leader gestured for his son to sit down.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel greeted with a smile.

"Cas,” Dean responded as he offered his son a seat on the table.

Castiel gladly sat down and served himself with the food with his father inquiring about his health and many other concerning things. The lord responded with fondness to the Leader for it had been long since he had a talk like this with him. While conversing with the great leader, however, Castiel was also waiting for Dean to come down. He noticed the man was talking too long and he was almost done eating.

When at last he was done with Dean still not there, the lord sighed with reserved patience and gestured for the chamber.

"My lord?" inquired the Lord standing nearby and ready to serve.

"Please go to my companion's room and check on him." Castiel started quietly, "Please tell him I am waiting here in the dining chamber."

To the lord's surprise however, the chamber Lord looked confused and uncertain.

"My lord?"

Castiel blinked, until he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to his father who was also looking uncertain.

"Why- didn't your companion say goodbye to you?"

Castiel felt something hit him on the head.

"Good bye?"

Chuck raised both eyebrows.

"What is this? He did not? He told me he already said goodbye to you this morning."

Castiel's expression hardened.

"I have no clue as to what you are talking about, father."

"Oh, very well. I was approached by the young man early this morning and said he would be on his way. He said he had to deal with something urgent and he could not delay it. I thanked him, naturally, and asked if you two have spoken about his leave. He said yes and went on his way. I did not think he would leave without notifying you. Did you fight?"

Castiel shook his head. Well, not as far as he could remember because last night…

"Very well," the leader took his wine glass, "He must have his reason."

"He did not even ask you for anything?" the lord inquired.

"He did not even ask for a piece of bread."

The Lord lord did not speak but remained looking on his plate.

So finally, Dean left without a word to him. After talking to him last night the man just left like nothing happened… But thinking about it, the man no longer has any reason to stay. He had helped him to return to his village, what is there to ask more. Maybe they were really meant to go separate ways.

Castiel closed his eyes and patiently sighed. He then took his wine glass as well and drank its content, thinking deeply.

His journey was over. It was time to move on.

As he placed the glass back, the lord looked up at his father.

"May I go to my room, father?"

"Yes, of course." nodded Chuck as he gestured a chamber Lord to give him the bowl of fruits in the middle of the long table.

Castiel stood up and quietly traced his footsteps back toward his room when-

"Ah, that reminds me," the village leader called toward his son, "Your companion did ask me for something… odd."

Castiel glanced at the man in wonder.

"What is it?

"Well, he asked me where your brother died… so I told him about the Tree of the Dead.”

The Lord frowned. Why would Dean ask about something like that?

*.*.*.*

The sky was cloudy, and the atmosphere was humid and cold.

A black hoof of a horse stopped and trampled on a lone grass on the dirty road. The beast's rider, whose broad back stood straight and immobilized, gazed at the surrounding area before him where he could see a hill in a distance. The hill was eerie under the cloudy sky, but what made it more unwelcoming were the apparent statues standing at the top of the hill, a graveyard.

The rider's eyes gleamed and he goaded his horse to move toward it.

A group of men huddled together in one corner on what appeared to be a graveyard.

There were many of them, at least twice a dozen, and they were all armed with blades and garden tools. The group were circling a small fireside in the middle where they were warming themselves from the cold atmosphere. They also had some bottles of ale and pipes on their hands, drinking and smoking at the same time. Dean avoided them from the pub. He had to tell Sam his plan. Castiel is blinded by his belief that the monster is still his brother and so, tolerate it, even forgive it. But Dean knows its real form.

Just another creature he needed to deal with as a watchman.

He doesn’t see Sam so he leaves a word with the barkeep. There were only nods and whispers around him until he left without looking back. He will get Castiel out of this curse, get the curse from his body and maybe, just maybe he and Lord Novak can have a future together.

He set out into the night with nothing but his faithful rod. He knows its suicide mission, but what else is left? His time was almost up.

The horseman was upon Dean. He stares death right in the eyes. Castiel arrived just in time to knock Dean to the ground when the rider raised its blade. They crash on the floor. Then Castiel is on his feet.

“If you want to kill anyone, kill me. But not him… he’s… you’re not to touch him, Jimmy!”

“He’s not your brother, Cas!” Dean shouts, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him back. “We gotta go! Now! Run!”

They did, to the forest, the hills, deep in the darkness where they could hear the neighbor of the horse in the dead of the night. Dean never knew the scope of the land beyond the hills of the hollow, but he knew it’d take them a long time to get back.

* * *

It was an eventful night. Dean that nearly caused Dean's life.Castiel pulled the man to his feet with his arms securely closed around the human's back and holding him firmly. They started to walk a few steps until the sunlight hit their pale faces.

Dean felt compelled to abide by his friend's counsel of moving on towards Sleepy Hollow-not because of his own injury- but of the Lord's. He believed- with the knowledge within him, like his father had taught him- that Castiel' condition was not healthy both physically and mentally.

The slight gash on his cheek after the fall on the ground was red, the bruise on his lips seemed painful and Dean knew the Lord was just withstanding the urge to lie down because of him. What he suspected that was adding to this, was the melancholy of the Lord about the human's condition. Dean noticed how his friend regarded him with further care. Noticed how the Lord would glance at him with worry from time to time, as if expecting him to vanish from his sight. These gestures didn't come unnoticed and Dean decided that it had something to do with the dream the Lord had from his deep slumber before. It was plain that something was bothering the Lord and this something unmistakably heightened when he collapsed.

He cursed himself inwardly for being a burden. He should have looked after his own wound when he had time back then, to save his friend from this task of bearing him while supporting his own fresh wound. He really had forgotten about it after seeing the almost lifeless form of the Lord when he had found him. It scared the soul out of him when he thought his friend was dead. But the gods granted him the chance of saving the friend he loved when he felt a weak sign of life beating from the Castiel' scarred neck.

"I think I may really have to carry you after all…"

The gentle voice of the Lord brought the Dean back to his surroundings. Oblivious of their position, he slowly realized that they were standing before the now tranquil river. The sky above them gave no sign of disturbance and for the first time, Dean distinguished the familiar woods just opposite them. They were indeed very close to Sleepy Hollow. How come he failed to spot it?

Curiosity gnawed at the man but he pressed it back to inquire his friend about his recent statement.

"And why- forgive me if I fail to notice the reason- would you have to carry me, mylord?"

Castiel was saddened by the hoarse voice of his friend but pushed it past him. He raised his eyebrows sardonically and inclined his head on the apparent river before them.

Dean's deep frown of confusion made the Lord sigh in exasperation. Men, he thought scathingly.

"You do expect me to wash you down in the cold water and risk having you shuddering before me in your present condition, do you not?" he asked skeptically.

Dean's own eyebrows hiked up his forehead after the statement and had to suppress a laugh that clearly followed it.

It was Castiel' turn to frown in confusion.

"What is it that you find funny now, you peculiar human?"

Dean held his breath to stop his snickers to avoid making his wounded side hurt.

"My Lord- Cas," he said after a while feeling light headed, "Normally you would engage me into a battle just to push me off a river yet now- I never thought a day would come when you would hate a river so, ,"

Castiel pondered for a moment at what the man said and had to agree. He loved nature like it was his own life and especially liked streams and rivers for they cleansed him and even his dirty companion. But the situation was different. They were not on a trip to clean themselves. Right now, as Castiel sees it, this long line of water was a big hindrance for his companion's safety.

"Different positions ask for different solutions," the Lord marked pensively, squaring his shoulders to carry the man. Dean tensed at the Lord's sudden movement and had to practically push the Lord away from him.

"Whoa- whoa! Hold your horses, my lord!" he exclaimed, feeling a jolt of pain from his side but chose to ignore it as much as he can to avoid grimacing. It will not help him win the battle with this stubborn Lord.

"Dean-" said Castiel with gritted teeth.

"You will not carry me like that!" said Dean indignantly and before the Lord could realize what was happening, Dean lurched himself forward the stream with a splash.

Castiel' watched flabbergasted and he quickly thrust himself forward the water seconds after the human. He felt the cold water close to his elven body and had to cry out. If he was able to feel the almost freezing water, what of the man? The river wasn't deep and Castiel quickly found the human and pulled him upward to the surface. They were sputtering and staggering from cold when they resurfaced and Castiel did his best to pull the human to the bank of the opposite woods.

Both beings were taking breaths as if robbed from it and had to drop on the ground, shaking and freezing.

"…you…obstinate… ridiculous… most insane human I ever met!" gasped Castiel feeling suddenly sick and fatigue and cold even, "Do that again, Dean!" he injected after grasping a lungful of air, "I swear I won't even bother to save you again!"

The man mumbled something inaudible but Castiel was able to hear it and he laughed heartily, something he hasn't done for long.

"Yes," he agreed to Dean after a while, "You are clean and within your own free will too."

The man rolled his eyes, oblivious to the red spots appearing on his wounded side.

The Lord felt tired, more tired than ever after dragging himself away from the icy cold water of the river. It had never occurred to him how excruciating water can be so against a throbbing skin. Clearly it was proof of how poor his condition was. He would never curse water elements if they can help it but right now all he wished was for the water to disappear. As soon as the idea crossed his mind, he quickly made a silent apology. It was no one's fault the water stands against them. It had been there longer than Castiel could ever remember and he shall not hold begrudge against nature.

The thought of his friend made Castiel leap up in a sitting position only to double back as the pain on his chest heightened. Not a good sign. Grasping his chest and taking turns of slow breaths, he made sure his voice didn't shake as he called out to the human.

"Dean?"

"Yes?"

The response was quick and tense for the lord's liking and he quickly scanned the area to where his friend was. There was Dean, and to the Lord's surprise, in a sitting position as well, with his back turned against him.

"What is the matter, Dean?" he quickly asked, moving his knees to crawl beside the man.

"I'm bleeding." answered the man truthfully.

Dean felt the stinging of his wounded side earlier and knew it was in a more awful shape. His quick fall on the icy river, not to mention, the forceful way of how he threw himself into it, had added to the injury. He wanted to conceal this from his friend but knew doing this would only grief the Lord more in the future. Moreover, how can he hide such an obvious predicament? He would save his friend from worrying much by holding on and stop showing signs of pain and weakness as much as he can, that he vowed to the gods.

Upon hearing the man's affirmation, Castiel quickly forgot the throbbing of his own body. He was beside the man before the man realized it and was already ripping his wet tunic away.

"Why did you not let me carry you," said Castiel with an edge of annoyance but with worry dominating his fair face, "Do you not know how important it is to keep you warm, Dean?"

The note of pleading on the lord's voice struck Dean like lightning and brought his already light head back to focus. His confusions earlier on the cave consumed him once more and had to ask himself if he really was worthy enough to receive such oaths of good friendship and love out of the fair Elves. If he was so important then how come he could not see the reason why? Why they love him was a great mystery for him but one thing is for sure, that if ever the day that Mandos Hall called for him, he would not want them to grieve.

"Forgive me," Dean said softly almost for everything.

Castiel was ripping the blood soaked coat stuck itself on the man's flesh wound when he heard the cruel word again. He had stopped instantly and looked at the man with a horrified expression unable to conceal on his fair face. He had been pondering about his dream earlier and with the instant spoken word, his apprehension increased dramatically.

"Dean you-," his lip trembled but forced a cry back and turned to focus on his friend's wound. If his friend was to talk to him in such a manner then he rather not talk to him at all.

Dean felt something whoosh down his stomach. Something similar to heavy chain metals being tied around his abdomen. If it were the nauseous feeling, he would know it for he was already feeling that way from the beginning. No, this feeling was something different and somehow something more painful than actually being sick.

* * *

_Pain._

For a while Dean thought that something awful had also happened inside his stomach. He wondered if the poison had reached his organs and thought how his father would have to make him sleep in order to mend an internal wound, when a sudden air of grief that instantly filled his heart followed the pain.

"Castiel?" he started to call out unconsciously feeling the familiar presence that followed the grievous feeling. "Castiel- is that you?"

"What is the matter, Dean?" asked the lord in front of him, looking up at his stubborn friend.

Dean refocused his eyes and saw that the blue eyes were once again filling with concern. With a jolt of recognition, he raised his right hand and touched the Elven chest.

"What-?" started Castiel almost anxious that his friend was becoming delirious. When the man spoke, however, it was in such a voice that suggested seriousness more than anything.

"Dean… Dean, please, do not leave me…”

“I can’t see…”

The words sent chills down the Lord's heart and he had to take in a lungful of air. Mustering his emotions, he cradles Dean’s cheeks.

“Do not fret… I won’t leave you…”

Dean’s hand gripping his wrist told the Lord much of Dean’s response.

They were linking more than any other close beings could. The grief and pain that had enveloped him in his sleep caused by the man was back and was emanating itself from him now, making the human feel the same. How can beings be so different physically yet similar at heart?

The pained expression on Dean's face made Castiel compelled to answer truthfully. He knew he had no other way of concealing it.

"What I feel is something important, Dean," explained the lord, looking at the man straight in the eye and clasping his right hand with the man and squeezing it, "It is not something that ails me, but something necessary to happen for it only proves how much I love you. If there were no such feelings within me, then I dare say I have never really cared for you, Dean, it is something I am proud to feel."

Dean regarded him for a second before pulling his hand away and reaching it behind the lord's head. He pulled his friend's head close, making their foreheads touch each other.

"Must you sacrifice so much for me?" he asked with his eyes closed, his voice full of uncertainty.

"I will sacrifice my life." answered Castiel with seriousness of a vow enveloping his voice.

Dean shook his head away and made to kiss the Lord's forehead fondly.

"Thank you...," he whispered sincerely.

With the lord’s remark, all of Dean's doubt about himself vanished instantaneously. If the lord sees to it that he would sacrifice even his immortal life for him, then his life, however uncertain, must really be of great deal of importance as well.

"Let us not forget your wound," said Castiel after awhile, pulling away from the man.

Dean smiled, becoming aware of their surroundings once more and then shuddering.

"You are freezing."

The lord's voice made Dean wince for the voice, which was full of love awhile ago was now filled with accusations. More importantly, the lord was right. The man had not noticed how his temperature must have gone down enormously and cursed the sudden blow of air that made him shiver hard once more. Before he knew it, his teeth were chattering.

"I can only think that hurrying us both to Manor is wiser than to linger here and set a fire," said Castiel after a quick inspection at the place. "Though… in our present condition, I'm afraid it will still take us an hour or so…"

"Let us go," said Dean through gritted teeth.

“Let me help you,” Castiel says. Dean did not heed but stole another kiss from those lips.

Castiel smiled, but pulled the man up anyway.

Once they were up the hill, where the black horse had been chewing on the grass, the two different being once again stared at each other with no sign of getting tired.

"How is this possible?" the man wanted to know as he traced the Lord's high cheek with his finger.

Castiel took a long sigh. He turned his head on the other side and whistled. Dean followed where he was looking and saw a white horse emerge from a distant tree on the other side of the stream. The man couldn't help but stare.

Moments later found the two sitting comfortably next to each other with their clothes hanging on the tree branch. The horses surprisingly have clean cloaks on them hiding on the luggage they were carrying. The two sat side by side, wearing nothing but the cloaks, in the middle of blazing day light, and under the shade of a large tree.

Castiel related how his father had told him that Dean was looking for the place where the Lords were attacked. The Lord admitted curiosity but never intended to follow.

"But as I stayed in my room, I just felt like following." He remarked with a smile, "I just felt like something was wrong… and you left me without a word."

Dean bowed his head.

"Then I arrived at the forest," Castiel continued with his eyes watching the horses drink water on the stream, "I didn't see you. I thought of going back home, I told myself I don't care where you are or what you do… but alas something pulled me to track you down and follow once again. I thought I was mad to follow stubborn man that you are…but… I can’t seem to help myself.”

"I found myself facing this hill; it was where your tracks were heading. And then I smelled blood, a great stench that told me a lot of beings were killed…to tell you my heart panicked for no reason and before I knew it I was retracing your footsteps up the hill… I saw… a great number of dead bodies…I thought you were one of them…"

Dean felt Castiel shook before him so he wrapped his right arm around the Lord's shoulder and pulled him close.

"I thought you were…I searched… I could not find you… I called you… my head started to hurt and then images on my mind started to appear… I found myself standing in a middle of dead bodies, to the place I clearly remembered when I was captured…those men who tortured me… It started there and I remembered…and you…glad I was when I found your familiar footsteps going down the hill…"

Castiel glanced at Dean's direction with new tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Your hand." he requested.

The man could not say anything so he reached his left palm on him. The Lord took it and pressed his lips on it with both his hands clasping them.

"Why did you have to burden your hands with their lives?" was the Lord's shaky question.

Dean's eyes darkened as he shifted his eyes and looked away.

"They were the reason for your suffering… I could not leave knowing that they may threaten your life again."

Castiel pulled the hand near him and did not let go.

"Castiel…" Dean whispered, feeling the Lord's earnest cry.

"Forgive me for turning myself away." The Lord said, his head bowed down on Dean's hand, "Forgive me for leaving you… I did not mean to… I loved you…"

Dean shook his head and took the Lord to his arm in one pull of his hands.

"It's enough that you are here… I will never let go… not anymore."

The two beings quietly stayed like that for a very long moment, treasuring each other's presence and love.

The man did not know who to thank to. Castiel was beside him again just after he was ready to give up everything. The Lord returned to him, the same Lord he loved for a very long time. Dean swore he would never let anyone get in between them once again. He would protect their love, he would protect his Castiel.

The Lord moved his head and kissed Dean on the lips. The man did not refuse and answered the Lord's willingness to share their body.

"I promised myself last night was the last," he murmured on the pointy ears as the Lord took the initiative and sat in front of him.

"I refuse." was the Lord's answer.

Dean chuckled and kissed the Lord deeply again.

He plans to go back to home, plan to talk to his father and tell him about the love of his life. He plans to return to Sleepy Hollow and asked the Leader for the hand of his son. He will meet their answers head on and without holding back for no matter what happens he will never ever let go of this hand that was holding him.

He had lost him once, but never again.

He knew Castiel feels the same as their kiss continued, as if to repay for the lost time that they were not together.

"My beloved," he whispered in between deep breaths as they shared a moment under the tree, "Would you come to me to home? I plan to introduce you to my family…"

"Wherever you go I will follow," the Lord responded deeply, "Whatever you ask I will give, whatever you tell me I will concede… You, Dean, is the only one I care enough in this world, and my life is yours."

"I take responsibility." nodded Dean and he embraced the lord tightly in his arms.

It was a fine day.

Everything was all right.

* * *

The magistrate, Chuck Shurley, stares at his brother with impartial eyes. The courthouse is crowded, the village captured by the latest sensation of one Gavin McLeod’s death.

“It wasn’t Rufus Turner, your loyal servant, the village Watch who protected you while you slumber, that killed the victim, your honor. Nor were there any basis to believe the myth of the Headless creature who, in its defense where it capable of hiring a solicitor to prove its innocence by citing its habitual appearance to date, could possibly have beheaded the victim a month earlier than its intended visit. No…”

Sam stops briefly, eyeing no one in particular in the grim audience, but manages to raise his chin regally once more, barrister gown whipping in his wake as he strides the court floor, white collar neat with certainty blazing in his eyes.

“There is no use pinioning it to a creature that could not speak for itself, let us not drift to the tales of the supernatural kind but to the reality of facts with evidences. The death of Gavin McLeod the night Rufus Turner found his then unidentified body on the 17th of September, with the blunt weapon finally found sleeping under the water bridge, and… the head tied with it. The owner of course, identified.”

The court room fills with buzz but Sam isn’t finished. Dean watches from the back of the room as his brother hands the papers to the magistrate, the one the barrister had been working on for weeks of the conclusion of the case.

“It is saddening fate when one has to reveal a heinous act done so horridly almost in par of devil’s work. But more so when one has to reveal it is born from spite of one’s own blood.”

Chatter breaks as the villagers glance around in confusion while the tall barrister eyes Rufus sitting by his corner. On the other sits the victim’s only family left—a man of thin dark hair, lazy eyes, glowering at Sam Winchester who snaps his eyes back to the magistrate.

“Crowley McLeod’s killed his brother.”

Dean watches the case wrap before slipping out of the court house before the majority leaves in waves. He sees Fitzgerard and walks to him with a smile. Garth sees him and he beams.

"Are you alright now, Chief? I heard you were delirious for the past few days?"

"Seeing an angel beside my, my good man," Dean says, patting Garth's shoulder. “Thank you for helping us find the weapon..."

"It's nothing chief, glad to help always." he winks and bounds away.

“He calls you chief now?” Sam says beside him as they watch the Watchman walk away that afternoon after an eventful afternoon of the village butcher, Crowley was arrested for murdering his brother in cold blood. Dean inclines his head to his younger brother, eyes following Garth’s back.

“He helped you find the weapon and the head, you should at least be grateful. It took us a month to finally find evidence against Crowley. What gave him away?”

“With village this small, you will be surprised of the number of people who has close ears on each of their neighbor. It took about that stretch and your prying” Sam says meaningfully.

Dean frowns. “You mean… the villagers knew it’s Crowley?”

“They suspected him,” Sam corrects, “and the villagers frightened as they are with the Headless Horseman knew it couldn’t have done it, not in the start of fall…no. The only reason they never really pointed at Crowley was their fear of his influence to the magistrate... good thing they trust the Rider to ride on the given date..."

Dean nods. One of the reasons Sam was able to reason out why a human killed Gavin was because it was done in the middle of the road and once that was deduced it was easy to follow up on his butcher brother Crowley. Dean somehow thinks the headless rider is someone he can understand as it tries to locate its missing head.

in the evening he is the night watchman that makes sure no one else uses the legend of the monster to their benefit to get rid of their annoying neighbors or relatives. And in the morning, he is Dean Winchester, just Dean Winchester allowing his little brother to admonish him of the dangers of being a night watchman when on his arm lie the proof of the next victim.

“I know, brother. But Crowley is already in the gallows and he won’t even speak about how he killed Gavin. And if I am going to persecute Lucifer, it’s for an entirely different case I’m putting together but that requires subjecting the victim to exposure which can also lead them to the gallows so…” Sam sits down opposite carrying a plate of cheese, his expression is hard.

“Look, we stop this will you go back to the South with me? We don’t have to stay here, Dean,” he sounds both annoyed and concerned. Dean looks up at his brother. They have their own lodge now owned by a good-natured landlord. 

“Faith set on the Headless Rider? That is unheard of,” Dean chuckles, eyes fondly fixating on Castiel's carriage riding along the street. He turns to Sam. "Will you join us, brother?"

"Go get your... you still have to be careful," Sam tells him but not without love. Of course Sam knows. The first person who needed to accept him was his brother. With a wave, Dean leaves his brother and jumps at the passing carriage, shaking it to and fro until Castiel's grumpy handsome face peers at him from the inside. He looks very beautiful in his tailed coat and silky pantaloons Dean prays to the gods for giving to him.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

"I am, to my vast knowledge, my Lord, is riding along."

"Get in here, you fool," Castiel grabs his collar and Dean has to get out of the door's way before slipping inside the carriage, pulling the window covers as he captures the lips of his beloved lord.


End file.
